


World of Warcraft: Shadowlands

by ScouterFight



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Dark Rangers like all of them at some point, F/F, Knights of the Ebon Blade, Next few tags contain spoilers for the upcoming story:, Old Gods, Other Additional Relationships to Be Added, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other additional characters to be added, Picture inside!, Undead Jaina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2020-10-10 13:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20529173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScouterFight/pseuds/ScouterFight
Summary: --"I wasn't sure if you would come," Sylvanas stated softly without turning around to face her.Jaina growled and tried not to impale the Banshee on one of her ice spears, at least not yet."My brother, Windrunner?!" She nearly screamed, as the air around them suddenly grew much colder.--"JAINA!!!” Sylvanas desperate cry was the last thing she heard before the darkness at the edges of her vision claimed her.--"My lady, this will destroy me. Then you only have-“"I don't care! Raise her!" She nearly screamed at her Val'kyr.--"Are the troops ready?""Yes, dark lady.”"Good. We set sail at dawn!"--"Last chance to reconsider." Sylvanas offered as she stepped up beside her. The ship beneath them rocked and creaked as it fought against the angry waves."And leave you to march into Hell alone? No, we are doing this together." Jaina scoffed.--"I love you," Sylvanas whispered as they readied themselves for their last assault against the Old God.Jaina looked at her from the corner of her eye and threw her a brief smile."I love you too."--





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
Update 9.9.2019  
Updated the End Notes, the Tags, and added the first real chapter. Enjoy reading :).  
By the way the publication date is wrong, the real one is the 5th of september 2019 and not the 9th. Ao3 is being difficult.  
I can't change that without changing the update date, and because I want that people notice that I've updated something I'm keeping it as it is, and can only tell you that I've published this on the 5th.
> 
> Update 14.03.2020  
**IMPORTANT!!!!**  
**I rewrote Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3.**

* * *

Dark Forces are stirring, and sometimes you have to be the Villain to be the Hero the World needs.

* * *

Teldrassil one of the great World Trees was burning fiercely across the water. The air around Sylvanas was thick with the smell of burning wood. Luckily the horrible stench of burned flesh, which as slowly wafting across the water towards her, was barely noticeable beneath it.

Sylvanas’s sight was heavily limited by the thick clouds of ash and even the bright flames that were eating away at the World Tree were just barely visible behind the thick cover. It hadn’t even been more than two hours since the first catapults had been launched, but the ground was already completely covered in the dark powder. The ash that mixed with the rivers of blood, had quickly turned the ground and sand into a disgusting mess beneath her armored boots.

The water that separated Warchief and the burning tree was churning angrily. The waves that lapped at the beach were unruly, clearly showing the element’s displeasure with what happened today, and every so often the water washed up burned carcasses and charred wood. Neither animal nor elf had been spared by the fiery destruction that she had ordered.

The small seas-side settlement Lor'Danel to the west of her position was also being engulfed by flames and filled with countless corpses. Even though the roaring of the fires had swallowed the screams of the dying Kaldorei before they could reach her, Sylvanas knew that they would have fallen silent by now anyway. There was barely any chance left that there were still survivors left in the World Tree.

And yet when Sylvanas closed her fiery red eyes, she could still hear the dying screams of the Night elven Sentinels in her head. The guilt was eating at her, the fallen elf had tried to tell herself that when she and Saurfang had planned this invasion that it would not come to this. She had sworn to herself to capture the tree and not to do something more drastic, not before they at least tried to find the Seal without destroying the young World Tree. 

But somewhere deep inside of herself, she had always known that it would come to this. Ever since she had learned that one of the five Seals was buried underneath the capital of the Kaldorei, she had known that they would have never found the Seal without destroying the tree either way. 

If they would have found the damned Seal in the first place, time was running out, and they couldn’t waste even a day on something that would result in nothing. Capturing Darnassus and Teldrassil would have been a waste of time and resources, and the Kaldorei would have never given their home up anyway. 

Sylvanas snarled, she was deeply disgusted by her own actions, and not just because the entire situation hit far too close to home. 

Sometimes during the invasion, when the Warchief had not listened too closely, the screams of the dying Night elven had sounded far too similar. There had been moments where she had been back in the fields of her home, surrounded by her Rangers and facing an unstoppable army of death. The war cries and screams the Kaldorei had let out as they fought and died all around her had been far too familiar to the ones her rangers and soldiers had given as they had been slaughtered by Arthas and the Scourge all those years ago. 

She was glad that the air smelled like it did, of ash and fire and not ranking with the horrible stench of decay and blood.

While Sylvanas had initially been disappointed at the weak resistance the Night elves had put up to defend their home, she was also glad that it hadn’t even taken the Horde more than two weeks to reach the northern shore of Darkshore. And yet it still had seemed almost far too easy. She had been constantly on edge, wondering if there was still something waiting in the shadows around them. Some kind of trap that would buy the Alliance enough time to gather a counter strike against the Horde’s invasion force. 

And while Malfurion’s barrier had been a surprise, it had not been something that had stalled them for too long. And even though the Kaldorei and the few Alliance troops that had been stationed in the Night elven territory had managed to regroup and reform their ranks it had still been far too easy to push the defenders back bit by bit. She had expected more of the usual so ferocious Kaldorei.

Sylvanas was still enraged over the fact that the old druid had come so close to defeating her, the Banshee had just been about to cut her loses and make her escape when she had felt the presence of one of her Champions rushing towards her position. So, she had decided to wait a bit longer and to see what Malfurion would do, confident in the fact that with the support of the Champion she would finally be able to kill the druid. 

But the High Overlord had been just a bit quicker than the Deathlord. Storming into the clearing he hadn’t hesitated before he had thrown his axe at the druid’s turned back, Malfurion hadn’t seen the attack coming had been unable to escape the blow. Incapacitated and greatly wounded the Night elf had collapsed and had not gotten back up again. The death of Malfurion Stormrage had never been so close, she had almost been able to feel his life force begin to slip away, as his hurt body had lied there in the dirt.

And yet, when Sylvanas had seen and heard the regret in the old orc’s face she had known that she was standing at a crossroad, she could either choose to kill Malfurion and deal a vicious blow against the Alliance, or she could once and for all test Saurfang. His loyalty to her had always been questionable, and she had always been aware of the fact that most of the members of the Horde Leadership have never liked nor trusted her, with Saurfang being one of them. 

So, the Banshee Queen had made a hard choice, she had wanted to test if he would actually be able to actively go against a direct order of his Warchief if said orders clashed with his beliefs. Locking eyes with the Champion who by now had also arrived at the scene and was hiding amongst the tree line, she had signaled for him to stay out of sight and not to interfere.

When she had praised Saurfang for a job well done, she had seen the conflict in his eyes, and Sylvanas had known then and there that he was going to fail her little ‘test’, but she still wanted to at least give him the choice, after all so many choices had been taken away from her, she would not do the same to her allies, even if said allies would and at some point had done the same to her.

And so, the Warchief had forced herself to leave the clearing, least of all she would just turn around and kill both obnoxious men, riding herself of two major problems with one swift strike. But she had refrained, summoning her horse she had locked eyes with the still hidden Champion to signal him that he was to stay behind and observe. 

When Saurfang had joined her and the other leaders, he had told her of Stormrage’s survival, informing her that Tyrande had arrived and that the High priestess had prevented him from killing her husband. 

Now hours later Sylvanas wondered, just how many lies he had told her at that moment, she wondered if he could find his honor in lying to his Warchief? Was there honor in disobeying a direct order, and to leave a very powerful enemy alive, just to satisfy your own sense of morality? Is it in some way dishonorable to save your Warchief, or to aid your ally in ‘distress’? Sometimes she wondered if honor was not just an excuse for Saurfang and so many others like him. An excuse to hide behind, and to excuse their weaknesses, doubts, and guilt.

Her mother, her mentor, and her instructors at the Academy all had taught her that while victory did not make every choice nor action excusable, defeating your opponents in battle, or winning the war should always be the end goal. After all your actions based on fickle things like honor or morals could cost you and your people the battle or even an entire war. And then you and even more so your people were going to suffer because of your actions. 

She had been raised to be the future defender of her people, she had been raised with the knowledge that some normally inexcusable acts, could be the right decision and or action in the face of war and death.

But honor had never been something that mattered to her people in the first place, at least not as it did for the Orcs, they had their morals too of course and they also believed in honor to some degree. But to the former High elven culture, and now Blood elven culture, honor had always been something that was fought for in tournaments, duels, and the occasional hunt. Not in life and death situations on the battlefield and certainly not in a war that would decide the fate of their people. 

But to Sylvanas it did not matter if what the Orc had told her was, in fact, the truth, or just more lies. And even though she was nearly a hundred percent certain that it had been at least partially a lie, he had still failed to do as she had ordered. In the end, he had doomed Teldrassil and the countless Kaldorei to a fiery death, while she had still been unsure about actually going through with burning the tree before his betrayal, afterward she had no other choice left.

The Horde could have never hoped to hold the Tree with both Whisperwind and Stormrage alive. Both leaders of the Kaldorei were not just their peoples’ leaders, they were their inspiration. Word that they both survived the attack would have bolstered the morale of the Kaldorei enough that they could have never actually taken the Tree, at least not until actual Alliance support would begin to arrive. He had taken the choice from her, and she had been forced to damn thousands of Kaldorei to their horrible fates.

In the end, he was just another ally that had betrayed her, the Warchief had lost count years ago, even before the Third War there had always been someone who had tried to sabotage her work, who had tried to reach for her position, even before and after she had been named Ranger General. It had begun in the Academy when she had been one of the youngest to join in a long time, the betrayal and backstabbing had followed her into her first unit, had stayed with her through her centuries of being a Ranger, and then it had come to a head the night the information had reached her that her mother had been killed.

Betrayal and backstabbing were nothing new to her, but the startling realization that Saurfang had not betrayed just her, but that he betrayed the entire Horde, hurt her worse than she would have expected. He had put his morals and honor above the wellbeing of the Horde. 

How could anyone accuse her of not caring about the Horde and its people, if the one who openly claimed to care about their Fraction betrayed them just to satisfy his so-called sense of honor? 

Sylvanas had _died_ for her people. She had been ready to do that every day since she had graduated from the Academy, could Saurfang say the same thing? Was he ready to die for his people, or was his desire to die an honorable death more important than his duties to the Horde, to his people?

The Ranger General had done everything she could have done in her final forty-eight hours, to save as many of her people as she could have saved. And as she now realized that someone like Saurfang, who was revered as a hero among the Horde could sell out those who adored him just like that, how many people would die in the retaliation over what happened today? 

It would not take long and then the Alliance would strike back, and the people that died now in this upcoming war were going to die because Sylvanas had been forced to burn Teldrassil, and all because of Saurfang’s wasted search for his honor. She just couldn’t understand how someone who claimed that he cared about the people and the Horde as a whole could just do something like this without thinking of the consequence. 

She and Saurfang had spent weeks planning for this assault, they had gone over every little detail and both had come to the conclusion that Malfurion Stormrage had to die so that they could occupy Teldrassil and Darnassus. They both had realized that with him alive the campaign to hold the Tree would have been over before it could even begin, Saurfang had even been the first one to admit it! And now he had failed to deliver. She had wanted to trust him. She had tried to put her trust into the old orc because despite his misguided conception of honor he had always known when to do his duty. 

And now, how dare he claim to have the moral high ground, if he could so easily do things like this?

The fact that the lies had slipped so easily out of him, made her wonder if that had not been the first time that he had put his own feelings above the wellbeing of the Horde. She had no problems with who she was, and she didn’t care to lie about them either, she was a murderer and a ruthless person both on and off the battlefield, to her friends and foes alike. But at the least, she didn't try to pretend to be someone she was not, at least she didn't try to pretend that she cared about someone or something when she really didn't.

The Horde had always been a means to an end for her and the Forsaken both, but that had been the case for nearly every race of that was part of the Horde, especially in its early days. Even the Forsaken had at first been just a means to an end for her. They had been the arrows in her quiver all of them aimed at the Lich King. And while they were still arrows aimed at her enemies, she didn't view them as replaceable anymore, every Forsaken had their purpose and for everything to work they had to do that purpose. 

But her people knew that now and they had known that then. They understood that every sacrifice, every battle, every death that had happened at the time, happened to ensure the Death of the Lich King. For the Forsaken it was just the way things had been during those earlier days. While things were now different, partially because of the different generations of Forsaken, she knew that most of them, if not all of the Forsaken are cold realists, who knew to do their job when the time came for it. 

None of the Forsaken had use for honor, what use were morals, honor and other concepts like those for the dead anyway. They all died in the end, a few select people stood up again, but in the end, death awaits every single living being, regardless of their actions and or choices.

The Banshee Queen raged internally, if Saurfang truly wanted to die an honorable death, then why had he not simply attacked Tyrande and had let himself be killed by the High priestess’s arrows? Honor had simply no place in war, concepts like honor were for tournaments and mock fighting. 

War, on the other hand, was just… ugly. And while Sylvanas understood that it was sometimes necessary for the sake of survival, it could never be about honor. Anyone who tried to find their honor in a war or a real battle, regardless of the fact if stakes were high or not, was not just an idiot, but also an imminent danger to their fellow soldiers. As Saurfang had so beautiful demonstrated. Leaving Malfurion alive had given the Alliance a horrible advantage against the Horde, something that could have been prevented. If Malfurion had died then they wouldn’t have had to burn down-

Sylvanas cut that thought process off and clenched her fists so hard that she drew ichor, as she reminded herself that this war was not about destroying the Alliance. Even though she was careful to make it seem like that, but there was much more at stake than just resources or the two large Fraction that shared Azeroth. She couldn’t lose sight of her real goal, couldn’t let herself get swept up in old habits and instincts.

And yet it was not easy, not even for her to dismiss her old urges, normally a dead Malfurion would have been good for the Horde but for what was to come soon, Stormrage being alive was definitely an advantage. The world would need a lot of healing when everything was over… again.

She almost sighed out loud in irritation at the mockery their existences had become, what were they even fighting for if the only thing they were doing was fighting at this point. From one war to the next. She hoped that the death of her current foes would put an end to the constant world-ending conflicts which had plagued Azeroth ever since the First War.

And the tree across from her would have most likely died anyway, maybe not today, but then at the latest when they finally found the Seal. The backlash of the destruction of the First Seal she had destroyed had nearly killed her, she doubted that the Seal below the World Tree would have spared the large plant. 

The hot wind that drifted over the water from the still burning tree brought Sylvanas back to the present, she mentally shook her head and scolded herself. Getting lost like that in her own thoughts was not just dangerous to her health, it was also costing her valuable time she could instead use to plan out her next moves. She closed her eyes and let her senses wash over her surroundings. A few of her Rangers were hidden around her. Preventing anyone from disturbing her and allowing her to think in peace.

When she pushed her senses further outwards, she could feel the soldiers and the Champions alike resting in the various camps through Darkshore. The emotions she felt were varied. Exhaustion after the last few weeks, pride over their victory, the sharp relief of having survived once again, many more both positive and negative emotions coursed through the warriors of the Horde. 

But the one emotion that nearly everyone felt, most notable was that most of the Forsaken and the few Death Knights that remained in the camps were excluded from, was the horror that had not abided since she had given the order to burn the tree instead of invading it.

Sylvanas felt the aura of death that clung like a veil around the entirety of Darkshore and beyond. Heavily wounded warriors dying in the battlefields all over the _former_ Night elven territory, the countless innocents who had lived in the supposed safety of the tree who had already been consumed by the raging flames, and the many more that would soon follow. The fallen elf knew that the Alliance would never be quick enough to save everyone from a fiery death. They had not enough mages at hand and certainly not enough time until the smoke and fire consumed everyone still living in that giant tree.

For a brief moment, she felt a pang in her chest, when she thought about a white-haired, blue-eyed mage who most likely would have been able to save everyone via her portals. If she had not even managed to extinguish the entire World Tree with a wave of her hands. She shook her head to rid herself of those thoughts. Now was certainly not the time to think about these things.

What had happened, happened. And now she would have to deal with it and the fallout that was sure to come.

Sylvanas knew that despite the thousands of dead all around her, that she should at least feel something, she had destroyed another Seal after all, and now only one more was missing before they could move on to phase three of her plans. She should at least feel relieved that this part was done. Or maybe even guilt or anger over the countless deaths and Saurfang’s betrayal.

And yet…

Sylvanas frowned as she withdrew her senses again until she could only feel her immediate surroundings, she felt absolutely nothing as she stared at the inferno. No regret, no guilt, no anger, and no satisfaction, she was just cold. Her plan had worked, yes. They had outsmarted the Kaldorei and she now stood victoriously. But this certainly did not feel like a victory, not for the Horde and not for her. But, she mused, it had to be done. Even if it had been a terrible decision that had doomed countless innocents to a fiery death this was something that had to happen. 

The future of her Forsaken, of the entire Horde, depended on it. All of Azeroth depended on it, she would not allow herself to fail a second time, she would protect her home and her people, what were a few innocents compared to the safety of all of Azeroth anyway?

She would protect those that were hers to protect even if it made a monster out of her. What was one more terrible deed amongst the hundreds she had already committed, both dead and alive, both as a free woman and as a slave? She had to do this, there was more at stake than anyone realized, and because she hadn’t shared most of what she knew, not even with her closest confidants, she was alone with the doubts and the guilt that plagued her.

Her Forsaken, and most of the Death Knights of the Ebon Blade, knew about the rough gist of what was to come should they not be able to do what they had to do, to save the world from endless darkness and madness. And not even Sylvanas was so cruel as to drag those who followed her, blindly along into the abyss with her. But she also wasn't so cruel to share everything she knew with them. It was better that way, let her be the only one to shoulder the burden and the guilt should they fail in their quest, the only one who was aware of what was truly to come should they fail.

She had done the same as Ranger General and she knew that her ancestors and predecessors had done so as well, she couldn't allow either her enemies nor her allies and soldiers to know that she was unsure about what to do. It was better to deal with her doubts and second thoughts alone than to pull someone down with her. She couldn’t let those who followed her, begin to doubt now, they had to believe that she knew what they had to do, and showing regret over actions and choices would do her no good.

And if the future of their planet and the safety of her people needed someone who would be able to make terrible choices then she would be the one to make them. If the world needed a Monster to save it from the monsters that threatened it, then she would become that Monster. 

She had made similar decisions as Ranger-General. 

In life, she had tried to keep as many of those who served under her as safe as she could, while they were in the field. And it had been her duty to keep the people of Quel'Thalas safe from harm, but now… what did it matter if innocents died so that others would have a future? What was the near annihilation of a few races compared to the end of all life as they knew it? What were a few thousand souls compared to the death of the Universe? Nothing, they were worth absolutely nothing in comparison, and someone had to make those choices so that others weren’t forced to.

Her ancestors had been forced to make those kinds of choices and she was no exception, those choices had been what had scarred Alleria away from the position as Ranger General, her free spirit had played into that as well, but her older sister never had, had the strength to be a leader, she was a good ranger, and a great shot, but being a leader clashed with her desire to explore, to see the world, and to just be free. 

Sylvanas had accepted the burden form an early age. And yet when she had been just a mere trainee in the Farstrider Academy when she had been taught about the weight of choices and the hard decision during wars and troubling times that had to be felled by the leaders, she never would have thought that the impact of her decisions would one day reach this magnitude and size.

Never in her life would she have imagined that Silvermoon could actually fall. Their Shield and the Cities' strength had been reflected in its army; they had been undefeated as a Nation since their kingdoms founding’s, over seven thousand years ago. 

Sometimes she wondered if her mother would have been a better choice for this task if Lireesa’s choices would have made a difference in the way things had played out until now.

Sylvanas had always hoped that she would be a Ranger General of peace times when she had grown up. And nearly all her life it had seemed to turn out that way. She had grown up, content and happy with her family all around her, she had risen through the ranks almost effortlessly, and their people had been at peace for a very long time after the Great Troll Wars. And while there had been some skirmishes and battles, there had been no all-out war between the elves of Quel'thalas and the remaining Amani Trolls. And the most dangerous things she had to survive had been the political games of the Silvermoon’s elite, sometimes more risqué patrols along the borders, and a handful of missions out of the Kingdom. 

Her mother had even begun to think about retiring after the death of her husband and the sibling’s father, so that she would be able to guide her second daughter during her first few years of being the leader of Quel’Thalas entire army, instead of dying on the Battlefield and leaving her daughter to suddenly face that daunting task

But then her mother had suddenly died during the early days of the Second War, which had forced her to become the Ranger General she had been destined to become in a matter of months, instead of years. Her sisters and her mentor had supported her, but it had not been easy. It had made her into who she was today, or at least it had laid the groundwork for the cold-hearted and ruthless Banshee Queen that she was now. 

So yes, she had always known that one day she would be forced to make these harsh choices.

And yet she had regretted the order as soon as it had left her, but Sylvanas knew that they would have never achieved what she had come for if they had left the tree intact. 

They simply did not have the time for any more failures and mistakes. Soon the metaphorical timer would hit zero and then it simply wouldn’t matter anymore, how many innocents she had killed. What were a few thousand elves burning in their homes compared to the full might of the Old Gods bearing down on their shattered world? 

The full might of the influence and the corruption of the ancient Four would kill them quicker than Sylvanas ever could. She scoffed, she was the least of their problems, and the fools did not even know that their end had been steadily approaching since long before they had ‘killed’ C’Thun in Ahn’Qiraj all those years ago.

Neither the Cataclysm a few years ago nor Sargeras’ Blade had been good for the slumbering Titan Azeroth, that they all called their home, and the people of this world were now suffering the consequences. In the event of the Old Gods rising, it would not take them long until they would manage to twist their weakened homeworld into a Dark Titan. At best purging all life on this world in the process and at worst twisting all living beings into horrifying void-creatures. 

The time was running out and nobody seemed to realize that, far too concerned with old grudges. Peace with the Alliance would have never worked, she had known that long before Vol’Jin had declared her Warchief, a role she had never wanted nor needed before. But a role she had been forced to take and to accept, so that her people, and the entire Horde, would not be crushed under the armies of demons on one side, and the Alliance one the other side.

But what the Old Gods held in store for them would be far worse than anything the Legion could have dished out against them. She could not fail, and if she had to kill everybody who dared to stand in her way then she would do so. She would rather watch the entire world burn and slaughter all life on Azeroth with her bare hands than to leave it for the Old Gods and their servants.

Her ears twitched when she heard footsteps approaching her position on the beach, tensing slightly she prepared herself for the first confrontation of many about today’s decision.

Sylvanas frowned, there was only one other person who would be let through by her Rangers without too much of a fuss. And she had been waiting for this conversation anyways.

Sylvanas turned her head just so slightly that she could see who was foolish enough to approach her. When she saw that it was indeed the person, she had been waiting for she turned her head back around to continue staring at the burning tree. The Warchief relaxed her shoulders slightly, this would not turn into a fight. Neither physically nor into one fought with harsh and biting words. The man approaching her was not here to confront her. The sound of his footsteps stopped a few meters behind her, and the clanking of his armor told her that he had kneeled. 

“I thought I told my Rangers not to let anyone disturb me.” She growled as a greeting. While she had indeed been waiting for his report, she was still not happy that her Rangers had just let him through without consulting her.

“Well I’m not anyone, am I?” The Death Knight spoke quietly from where he kneeled, she could imagine it, him leaning on his raised knee, while the other one was pressed deep into the sand beneath him, his right arm laying on the corresponding knee and with his head bowed deeply.

Another growl escaped her. “Don’t test me Duskweaver. Why are you here?” 

Her mother had told her to never make assumptions about someone, even if you know them well, after all, assumptions could either get you killed, or they could lead to a disadvantage in an argument.

“My report, my lady.”

He fell silent waiting for her to permit him to speak further, but Sylvanas wanted to make him ‘sweat’, she wasn’t necessarily angry at him, but she was angry at the world. Angry that she had been once more forced to make the kind of choice like the one she had done today. He was just one of the few she could let her anger out on without causing him serious harm. And even if it was just a bit petty silence, she knew that the Deathlord would not hold it against her, not with their shared history. 

None knew her better than he did, her dead heart ached when she realized that once there had been more people. Family and friends alike that at one time she had been able to trust unconditionally. She pushed these feelings aside. They had all betrayed her in one way or the other. She had no place in her unlife for trust, her sisters hated her and her former allies despised and abandoned her when she had needed them the most.

Now the number was barely down to two people. And while she trusted Nathanos to some degree. Sylvanas also knew that he had always let his personal feelings get in the way. While he was a great tactician, ranger and good soldier, the man was far too easy to anger, especially on her behalf. The only reason she had named him and not Zanris as the Banshee Queen’s Champion, as her personal Champion, was that the Death knight was much more useful to her as a Champion of the Horde. Nathanos was nearly always by her side, but she needed someone who could work independently without her constant supervision, and that role had fallen to the former ranger. 

Unconditionally loyal, extremely powerful and with a deep hatred for those who opposed her but still level headed enough that, unlike Nathanos, he was able to carry out her orders without letting his personal feelings get in the way. He had been like that in life as well, she mused with a barely-there smirk.

After a few minutes of silence, she finally granted him reprise. “Speak,” she ordered quietly.

“Most of the fights along Darkshore stopped abruptly when Teldrassil began to burn. The few remaining Night elves were mostly killed with a few of them captured. Only a handful on each battlefield managed to flee, most of them were Sentinels. The entirety of Ashenvale and Darkshore now belong to the Horde." 

“Anything else?”

"The blockade remained undisturbed. Not one ship even tried to sail away from the tree. A few of our more powerful mages reported that they felt the faint traces of portals opening and closing several hundred times shortly after the tree began to burn in earnest. But they were always small, so I doubt that too many escaped the inferno, before it became too great."

"And the Highlord?"

"He let Stormrage go together with Whisperwind... Saurfang could have killed him, but he hesitated for too long and when Whisperwind arrived, he allowed them to flee. His blasted honor was more important to the old fool than fulfilling his duty to the Horde and his Warchief.”

She hummed. “So, he has failed his test. Disappointing but not unexpected.”

“He also warned them-“

She interrupted him. "In what way? he could not have known that I would order this.” She waved her hand towards the direction where the large World Tree stood.

“He warned them that should they stay that they most likely would die in the coming invasion.”

"So," she mused, with a glare towards the inferno, "it is even worse than I thought. He was not only disobeying direct orders? He is also a traitor."

“Apparently so. Should we-?”

She shook her head, he was always so eager to punish traitors, well after Dar'Khan Drathir she could not say that she blamed him. "No, let him be, for now at least. Was that all?"

“Yes, Warchief. Anything else is mostly unimportant. Retrieving our fallen, counting the dead, healing the injured, securing the dead and selecting who shall be raised, and so on, and so forth.”

“Very well. Rise my Champion.” She mentioned with her hand for him to join her at her side.

She did not turn around as he stood up and closed the remaining distance between them until he stood a bit behind her, at attention at her elbow, as always guarding her. When Zanris came to a stop, he crossed his arms behind his back and lifted his armored head to stare at the dying World Tree. He let out a disappointed hum, and Sylvanas knew why. They both had hoped for a different outcome, and he was sad to see the tree die. Not because he held any sentimentality towards the plant, or because he mourned the Kaldorei that died inside of it, but because for what the tree stood for and what was now lost with its death.

When he finally spoke again, his words were so quiet that the ghostly echo in his voice nearly disappeared completely.

“That was not the plan.”

“No, it never was supposed to be this way. But-“ She paused, for the first time in a long time she had trouble finding the right words.

“But we would have never found it in time,” Zanris finished for her, the echo in his voice ringing with disappointment.

And just for a brief moment, Sylvanas was thrown back to much simpler times. When she had just been a Ranger-Trainee and he had been her unit’s instructor nearly a thousand years ago. Scolding her and her unit for making the wrong decisions during a training exercise or not being quick enough to defend themselves against a surprise attack from another unit of trainees.

At that time the far older elf had seemed almost invincible. Strong and self-assured, secure in his knowledge where his place was in their Kingdom and aware that he would die for their Kingdom before he would even consider surrendering their peoples' fate to their enemies' whims. He was the first-born son of two of Quel’Thalas greatest defenders, and he knew it.

His parents had both taken part in the founding of their Kingdom and the construction of the ancient Elfgates and the legendary shield Ban’dinoriel, which had protected the innermost parts of their Kingdom without fail ever since the shield had gone up for the first time. Up until Arthas arrived at their gates with the Scourge and managed to get that trice damned traitor onto his side, and even then, the shield had never failed its purpose, it had been sabotaged.

Sylvanas had been glad at the time when she had noticed that something had been wrong with Ban’dinoriel that Zanris had most likely already been dead. She couldn’t imagine how he may have felt to see his father’s magnum opus fail when their people needed it the most. 

Both of his parents had served and protected their people and Quel’Thalas and Silvermoon since their Kingdoms founding up until their tragic deaths during the ending days of the Great Troll Wars over two thousand years ago. Both ancient defenders of Quel’Thalas had fallen during a long and grueling battle near the end of the wars. 

Every High elven child learned about Kelthrian and Earania Duskweaver in school. And every Ranger knew the name Zanris Duskweaver just as they knew Sylvanas’s great grandfather’s name Talanas Windrunner. Talanas who had founded the Farstriders and reconstructed the entire High elven military during and after the Troll Wars, and his right hand, and rumored best friend, Zanris Duskweaver.

Zanris was the oldest, of his Generation of Dusweavers. The age gap between himself and his, younger siblings was enormous. While he had been born just a few decades after Quel’Thalas’s founding. His siblings had only been born shortly before the Troll Wars began, nearly five thousand years after his birth.

Nearly five millennials separated him from his younger siblings. And over six, almost seven, separated the Duskweaver and Windrunner standing side by side, as they gazed at the inferno.

Zanris cleared his thought, and his voice was thoughtful when he spoke again. “Are you sure it’s destroyed?” He asked, without turning his eyes away from the inferno.

“I already checked.”

Zanris hummed in acknowledgment. "Good, I'm not really in the mood to crawl through that mess when it eventually stops burning." 

“The alliance will not let this go unpunished," she mused with clenched fists. The leather of her gloves creaking under the strain.

“That is true. We will have to be ready for when they do strike. They will most likely choose Lorderon as their point of attack, after all, it is still a personal offense for them. It also would be far easier than attacking Silvermoon and on top of it all, it is deeply personal for you. A perfect target especially if the old mutt has something to say about that.” He growled the last part, his hate for the hypocritical king was widely known among the Horde. She knew that Zanris had never liked King Greymane, not even when he had been alive and fighting against the same enemy.

“Then there is nothing we can do for now but to prepare ourselves against whatever the Boy-King is going to throw at us,” she decided, her mind made up, she would let the Alliance come to her now, it would give her a chance to test the true strength of the Alliance.

“What about-?”

“We prepare the forces.”

“And what about the Final Seal and the Key?”

“For now, we can do nothing but wait until Azshara makes her move. And as for the latter, my Rangers and Champions are already searching for it.”

He scoffed. “Waiting… as a former Ranger I should be good at that but… alas, I always loved the chase more.” He shrugged and the sound of shifting armor followed. “Oh well, it doesn't matter anyway.” He turned his head away from the inferno to glance towards her. “My orders, my lady?”

“I have no standing orders for you, but be prepared to act as soon as I call for you.” She waited for him to nod before she dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“Of course, my lady.” He turned a little so that he faced her fully, he then fell into a deep elven bow. Without waiting for a reaction from her he quickly took a few steps back, before he spun abruptly on his heel and marched back inland. This left her once more alone on the beach with only her thoughts for company as she watched one of the last World Trees burn across the water.

Sylvanas resisted the urge to rub her temples in irritation as she forced herself to listen to the orc who was responsible for the lower levels under Orgrimmar as he gave his report. She frowned, thoroughly annoyed with the entire situation, this should never have taken more than maybe ten minutes for him to go over everything that he had to say, and yet he was still going on. The orc barely seemed to notice her irritation, and she wondered if he would notice it if she skewered him with her arrows. 

And that just irritated her even more, he was standing before her now because he had failed to keep Bloodhoof contained. The orc had a lot to explain himself for, and even though it had been her plan she could not show her hand too early, so she still had to punish him, because deceptive plan or not, he still failed in his duties. And yet, the orc, just like almost every member of his race, was so damn proud, his shoulders were pushed back, he was standing straight with his feet firmly planted into the ground, his head raised and his eyes focused. She couldn’t understand the orcs sometimes, conflicting and yet so simple. 

Everything about them was strange and different, similar to the Draenei, she mused silently. Maybe it had to do with the fact that they literally weren’t of this world. Maybe the one thing that bound every race native on Azeroth together was what separated both Draenei and Orcs so strongly from them.

It had been a long and tense day, and she was glad that it was nearly over. Her plans had depended on nothing going wrong these last few hours. And there had been a few close calls, some who had hit a little bit too close to home. 

But alas her Champion and the various Rangers stationed near where Baine had been kept, even his placement deep underground had been another strategic maneuver, had ensured that everything had gone off without a hitch. Bloodhoof had escaped, the casualties had been kept to a bare minimum and whispers were already circling through Orgrimmar, soon the entire populace would know about his escape.

The Lord Admiral and the Spy Master arriving to help the Tauren had been a surprise, but a welcoming one. It was almost too easy how well the pieces were beginning to fit together.

Despite everything turning out alright in the end, with some of them turning out even better than even she could have hoped for, it still irritated her that she wouldn’t have been able to interfere even if she had wanted to. In the end, it would have been better if something had gone wrong, than if those traitors had discovered that one of the Champions, one they seemingly trusted so much was in truth one of her agents.

While she could have never foreseen the mess in Nazmir and Uldir, and the fact that the Kul Tirans’ had been ready to execute Jaina Proudmoore in such a twisted way, up until now nearly everything had been going according to plan.

She was almost afraid for the other shoe to drop. The Old Gods could begin their attack earlier than she expected, or something else could prop up. And her _deal _with the Naga Queen was shaky at best, they both wanted something else, and neither was willing to trust the other, but Sylvanas knew that N’Zoth had to be freed on this side for her plan to work. And if Azshara managed to injure the Old God in the process, then it would just push her own plans further along. She could deal with the arrogant former Kaldorei later, for now, she had bigger things to worry about.

She was glad that her unlife prevented her from getting a headache but the orc still annoyed her immensely. His voice was far too loud for the small throne room of Grommash Hold and she wanted nothing more than to riddle his entire body with her arrows or maybe even let him feel the full power of her wail.

Her frown and her ears were the only things that gave her growing irritation with the fool away, her ears hadn’t really stopped twitching since he had begun with his report. And it wasn’t just how loud he was speaking that was irritating her. She mentally rolled her eyes again, because of course he just didn't show his pride with his body language, it had to bleed into his voice as well. Despite all his supposed failures, he was still so prideful.

Her thoughts drifted further away from the pointless report. The Banshee Queen already knew nearly everything she would need to know about Baine’s escape. Her Dark Rangers had kept her updated throughout the whole ordeal.

The only thing she now needed to know was if her plan was truly working. Finding Derek Proudmoore's body had pushed her plans along nicely. It had been the perfect initiative for Baine to act against her and the recently raised man would still be useful in the future.

After all Derek Proudmoore was an experienced sailor and commander both, and if the Forsaken lacked one thing, then it was experienced men and women who could lead an armada into battle.

The fact that Baine took her spy with him to ‘free' Derek and to reunite him with the Lord Admiral had been nothing short of a miracle. Everything was slowly falling into place. She did not know if Gods or some other kind of higher power pulled the strings in the background or if they even existed in the first place. And she didn't care about such things anyway, but some pieces of her plans were fitting a bit too nicely into place. It quite honestly perplexed her.

She was about to throw the fool out of her throne room when Anya, one of the Rangers who was standing guard, opened the door a crack and stuck her head through it.

The orc turned around when he heard the creak of the door, he looked startled when his eyes landed on the much smaller elf, Sylvanas let a small smirk appear on her lips as she watched the broad-shouldered orc turn pale. His fright of her and her Rangers was so obvious, she wondered sometimes how he hadn't died from a heart-attack by now. His usual posturing disappeared quickly as soon as more than one of them was near. It seemed as if the orc believed that as long as the rangers didn't outnumber him, then he could at least try to stand up for himself. She would call his behavior ridiculous if it wasn't so downright pathetic.

"Yes, Anya?" She drawled as she lounged in her throne, one leg thrown over the right armrest while the other one was placed in front of her.

Anya stepped further into the room, and Sylvanas’s smirk widened when she saw the orc fidget slightly. The ranger bowed briefly. “Dark Lady, the Deathlord has arrived.”

Sylvanas waved her right hand. “Send him in.” 

“Yes, my lady.” Anya bowed before she closed the door again, leaving the Warchief alone with the foolish orc for a few more moments.

“Dismissed.” Sylvanas drawled without even looking towards the orc.

“But I am not-“ Said orc sounded slightly confused.

This time she did not mask her irritation with the fool. Without waiting for him to finish whatever he had wanted to say, she growled low in her throat to cut him off. The orc squeaked slightly as the echo of her voice rang through the room before she shot to her feet. She was well and truly done with him.

“**Enough**!” She thundered as she stood in her full height before her throne.

She didn’t notice as dark tendrils began to writhe over her form and as her eyes blazed even brighter beneath her hood. Sylvanas had, without truly meaning to, released a bit of her Banshee form. The jailor stumbled back a few steps in his haste to widen the space between them. His eyes were wide with fright and his skin had turned deathly pale at her displayed fury. He was shaking in his boots and she could almost taste his fear in the air.

“Get out!” The Banshee Queen snarled. “I have far more important matters to deal with, then to listen to your pointless excuses. Consider this your dismissal. I nor the Horde have any need for incompetent fools like yourself. And if you are not out of her within the next three seconds, then you can take Baine’s place in those chains.” Sylvanas sat back down as he stood there frozen with shock.

She smirked internally at his horrified expression and opened her mouth once more to hammer the final nail into the coffin. “After all it was your responsibility to ensure that Bloodhoof would not be able to escape.” Her icy and sarcastic tone frightened the orc probably much more than her previous fury had. It did not help that her hand had begun to creep to where Deathwhisper was propped up beside her throne.

The Orc did not even bow before he quickly scrambled away. In his fright, he managed to collide directly with the leader of the Ebon Blade, who had just entered the room.

The Deathlord growled and reached for his weapons as the orc gave a squeak of fright, his voice pitching so high that one could have mistaken him for a gnome, he quickly bypassed the elf and hurried out of the Hold. 

“Kalira, see to it that nobody disturbs us for the foreseeable future.”

“Yes, dark lady.” Both undead elves watched for a moment as Kalira closed the door again, with a curt and yet, respectful bow of her head. 

Sylvanas turned her eyes back to the other elf in the room and said nothing as he slowly walked towards the center of the round throne room. 

She remained silent even as he knelt respectfully a few meters away from the steps leading up to her throne. The Death Knight reached up to remove the heavy helmet from his head. Revealing in the process short and spiky blond hair, icy blue and glowing eyes, and a horrible scar that covered the right side of his jaw and even went up to his cheekbone.

“Report.” Came the order, her cold voice hadn’t lost its agitated edge, but the kneeling man in front of her throne barely even flinched.

Zanris lifted his eyes from where they had rested on the floor in front of him, his icy-blue met her raging-red.

“Your plan went off without a hitch, my lady. We managed to free Bloodhoof without causing any permanent casualties. And after Proudmoore and Shaw joined us, it went even easier. The Lord Admiral teleported us out of there and to Thunderbluff, and we parted ways shortly afterwards.”

She almost breathed out a sigh of relief, but she refrained. “Did they suspect anything?”

“No, my lady. They seemed convinced that I was doing the… _honorable_… thing.” She smirked at the disgust in his voice.

“Anything else?” She drawled as she relaxed further into her throne. Her plan was working, so close. Just a few more weeks.

“Yes, before I left. I watched as Proudmoore spoke with Thrall. While nothing has been set in stone yet, it was heavily implied that should you choose to repeat what happened at Teldrassil with Thunderbluff then the Alliance will most likely stand with Bloodhoof against you.”

Sylvanas narrowed her glowing eyes.

“So, it is truly working.”

“Yes, dark lady.” Her Champion nodded.

“Very good, come my Champion.” She gestured vaguely to the space in front of her throne. 

He stood up and fastened his helmet on his belt behind his back. Both of his sharp and deadly swords sang with power, and the icy runes adorning them hissed as he moved, filling the silence between them. His heavy boots barely made a sound on the leather map covered ground, and Sylvanas knew that they were both heavily enchanted, as most of his armor was. But the boots were truly something else, they had enchantments for protection as well as silencing and an advanced frost-walking enchantment.

Zanris walked slowly and with measured steps towards her until he reached the highest step and leaned his back against one of the decorative spikes. Frost began to creep over the spike until the entire thing was glimmering slightly in the light of the few open lanterns placed around the room. She was glad that he was here. Even at night, the place ran far too hot for her tastes, with a lot of open fires, the heat from the day penetrated nearly every building in the city, and while Sylvanas wasn’t really bothered by extreme weather, the constant heat was getting to her.

But now she could feel his coldness even as he stood a few meters away from her, he had angled his body so that he could keep an eye on the door and on her, as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. One of the reasons why Sylvanas hated this throne, beside it being far too huge for her slim build, was the fact that her Champions couldn't stand beside or behind her. In moments like these, she almost missed Undercity and its large and open throne room. 

She waved her hand lazily and above the map that displayed the entirety of Azeroth appeared another much smaller map, she saw Zanris’s focus shift towards the map that now glowed in the center of the room. It was a magical artifact that displayed a small piece of land, which appeared to be nearly swallowed by the darkness that was surrounding it.

“Have you found it yet?” Zanris was the first to speak again, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the two elves as they focused their attention on the map.

“Yes.” Her answer came with no hesitation nor doubt.

He tilted his head slightly. “And where is it?”

She looked at him and studied the far older elf for a moment, his eyes were trained on the center of the map, where a single structure was displayed. The structure, a large temple, that supposedly housed the Old God _Y’Shaarj_.

“Guess.” She drawled with a smirk.

The blond-haired Duskweaver closed his eyes in thought, the icy blue glow from the necromantic energies that coursed through his body disappeared behind his lids.

"Ulduar..." He guessed when he opened them again after a few minutes of complementation.

"Good, but not quite, it is hidden in one of the titanic research facilities near Ulduar," She praised him.

He shook his head and murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘_always gotta be Ulduar’_.

Lifting his head he looked her in the eyes. “Who are you going to send?” His voice was calm, but a tremor in it revealed his distaste for the titanic facilities.

“I will be going, together with a small group. I do not want to draw too much attention.”

“I would not worry, the Alliance and the Horde both have mostly left the frozen North behind, far too trusting in the human if you ask me.” The Deathlord scoffed.

“Has _he_ stirred since the Invasion?” There was no need for her to specify further, they both knew who she was talking about. 

“Multiple times. My Knights are growing wary because the time between each event is growing significantly shorter. I fear that a second war with the Scourge will soon be unavoidable. As strong as Bolvar is, or has once been, he is still just a mortal man against the full might of the Lich King. It was always just a matter of time until he was going to crack under the pressure. But it is progressing far quicker than we had hoped it would.” Despite their concerns, they both chuckled darkly at that. 

No human, at least none like Bolvar, would ever be powerful enough to withstand the power of the Helmet of Domination for long. It would take someone of significant power to truly hold the horrible forces of the Scourge at bay forever or even for more than a couple of decades. The fact that the man had managed to hold out for so long, even if Zanris reports from back during the war against the Legion suggested that the former paladin was slowly breaking under the strain of the helmet, was impressive, to say the least. He had held out for quite a handful of years. 

But one day the Scourge would raise again, and it was going to happen most likely sooner rather than later. And then the Forsaken, the Death Knights and Sylvanas, would finally get the chance to complete their revenge against the being that had once enslaved them. 

While the Banshee Queen had mostly focused her hatred against Arthas, during the return of the Scourge, only months after the Heroes had returned from Outland, she had never forgotten nor forgiven that most of her torment had come from the Lich King himself. And she knew that she would not be able to rest until the helm was destroyed and the Lich King was gone forever. 

The same could be applied to most of the Forsaken, while some had their thirst for revenge stilled with the death of Arthas Menethil, most members of the Forsaken still wanted the total destruction of the Lich King. They desired to tear the frozen Citadel apart piece by piece until nothing remained of its dark legacy. Some even cried out for the total annihilation of the Menethil line, and while Calia’s death had satisfied them, the news that she had apparently returned as some kind of light-infused undead had enraged most of the Forsaken, Sylvanas included.

Most of the Death Knights were among the second group. And their hate, especially Zanris’s, had only intensified after they had to work together with the Lich King during the recent invasion of the Legion, and from what she had read in Zanris's reports she could understand why, but they both knew that other threats were much direr. And their thirst for revenge and retribution would have to wait just a little while longer.

“Do you think it has to do with…?” The Warchief trailed off.

He nodded, his features grave and serious, like always when they were talking about the Lich King. “Most likely.”

“That is worrisome. We can’t afford a war with the Scourge right now.”

"Yes, a three-way, possible even a four-way war would be disastrous for our forces." He shook his head.

“Can I still count on your Knights?”

He glanced over to her as if he couldn't quite believe that she had just asked him that. "Of course. While our focus should be centered around the Lich King, especially now with him stirring, my Knights also realize that when the Old Gods truly rise again that nothing will be able to stop them. Not even the Lich King. So, for the time being, we see them as the bigger threat."

Both fallen elves fell silent for a while, focused on their thoughts and things they still had to do. Sylvanas eyes traced the shape of the ‘island' that was displayed on the magical map, it had taken quite a lot out of herself and her rangers to find this priceless artifact, they had spent hours fighting through countless Titan facilities all over Azeroth, and in the end, had found it deeply buried in one of the oldest facilities they had yet seen. She had almost been surprised that they hadn’t encountered a being like G’huun or something similar on their way to the Artifact. 

It was an ancient piece of Titan technology, that could show the wielder any place they desired. It was more than just a simple map, it was three dimensional and after various tests, they found it was also adaptable. If the place the map projected changed in some way then shortly afterwards the map adapted, and changed itself to display those changes. It was probably one of the most dangerous artifacts the titans had ever created, especially in the wrong hands.

But its discovery had started her crusade against the Old Gods. The fact that they had found the artifact at all had proven her that her _vision _had not just been an illusion or a hallucination induced by head trauma from the fiasco that was the Assault on the Broken Shore. What she had seen that day after Vol'Jin's funeral had been real, and if her plans would fail, then all of Azeroth would be doomed. And the Old Gods wouldn’t just stop at their world, they would keep going until everything was consumed. 

In just a few short weeks the final phase of her plans would begin, and she and her lieutenants would lead the Forsaken and the Knights of the Ebon Blade against the Old Gods. Maybe with their ultimate defeat, Azeroth would not be pushed from one catastrophic disaster to the next. Maybe without _them_, Azeroth would finally find peace once again.

“When are you leaving?” Zanris broke the silence.

"In a few days, I don't know how long I will be gone, and there are still things that require my attention before I am able to leave for more than just a few hours."

He nodded. “Very well. Your orders, my Queen?”

“Return to Nazjatar and ensure together with Nathanos that Azshara keeps her end of our agreement. Do whatever you must. Kill, sabotage, if it comes down to it, even betray the other Champions and the Horde, but the Seal has to be broken, or we won’t be able to continue.”

“Yes, of course,” he murmured with a bowed head. “And if _she _becomes a problem?”

She waved her hand dismissively; she was beyond caring about what would happen to Azshara once their deal was complete. “Deal with her, my only concern is the destruction of the Seal, if the Naga Queen can’t do what is necessary, then destroy her. And then find a way to destroy the Seal yourself, everything else is secondary. The most important part is the destruction of the Seal."

"Of course, my Queen." He straightened himself and descended the steps of her throne until he reached the center of the room, the illusion around his feet disappeared with another wave of her hand. Zanris turned around slowly until he faced her again, and reached behind his back for his helmet. 

The Banshee watched as he seemed to observe the dark plate helmet, looking to be deep in thought about something. Before his eyes flared up and he raised his head again, after seemingly coming to some kind of solution. He quickly fell into a deep bow and placed his helmet back on his head, his pale skin, and blond hair disappearing once more from view. Sylvanas was briefly reminded of a monster in human skin, who’s eyes had glowed similar from beneath a dark helmet and who too had been clad in dark and unholy armor.

But everything else about the picture was… wrong.

Zanris was not as broad-shouldered as Arthas had been, and while he was taller, his stance was more graceful, even if he had lost most of his elven elegance when he had died, the ranger and archer in him had never disappeared. But most of all even his outline was deeply familiar and even after their deaths and his completely different armor, it was still somewhat comforting to see him standing so strong and tall before her. As if he was still the staunch defender of their people, and her calm guardian and former mentor.

She nodded at him and with a wave of her hand, he spun around on his heel and marched out of the Throne room and the Hold altogether.

Sylvanas’s eyes followed him for a moment until the door swung shut behind his silent form. Now that she was finally alone, she could think in peace, without disturbances or distractions. She hesitated briefly, looking around once more to ensure that she was really alone, even though she knew that she was the only one in the slowly darkening room, and then took off her left gauntlet. She looked down at her hands, and after muttering a quick incantation a beautiful silver ring appeared on her fourth finger.

She raised it until she was able to place a quick kiss onto the ring. Her undead heart yearned to be with the person who the second ring of the matching set belonged to, but she knew that her fight against the Old Gods was much more important than her long, dead emotions and yearnings. Because that was all this was, only echoes of the love she once felt for her former partner, nothing more. That part of her was dead and would never return.

Sylvanas scowled as she contemplated simply taking the ring off and throwing it away, she didn’t even know if Jaina still had hers, most likely not after what had happened at Theramore and in the days that had followed. But the Banshee knew that she would not be able to do it, just as she hadn’t been able to do so ever since she had put it back on after she had found it again, months after she had regained her freedom.

It would not matter anyway, her actions these last few months had destroyed any chance with her former betrothed anyway. She knew that there was no forgiveness to be earned. Hiding the ring with the enchantment, she pulled her gauntlet back on, before she finally stood. Taking Deathwhisper from where it was leaning against the throne, she threw it over her back.

Sylvanas shook her head as she quickly left the Throne room, Anya and Kalira falling into step behind her as she marched out of Grommash Hold. She had a war to win and nothing and no one would stop her from destroying the Old Gods once and for all. 

None of the other leaders, no one from the Alliance, and certainly not her former lover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that is the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed reading it. Propably going to take me a little longer to update the second chapter, but I hope that I can do it next weekend.
> 
> I'm still not too sure about the ending but I have a few ideas on how I want to finish it. I'm still open for ideas, if you want to write some down in the comments below.
> 
> There are still roughly 8 to 10 chapters planned.
> 
> So, maybe leave a constructive review down below. Leave a kudos or maybe bookmark the story, that would really make my day.
> 
> Thank you very much, this is ScouterFight and I’m out :D.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sorry for the delay, I had two less than ideal weeks, but things are getting better. Anyway, enjoy reading chapter 2.
> 
> Update: Updated the Tags
> 
> For the Record: I'm currently very angry. So expect quite a few rants down there. The new 8.2.5 things heavily influenced this chapter.
> 
> Update 14.03.2020  
**IMPORTANT!!!!**  
**I rewrote Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3.**

* * *

Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grommash Hellscream had been forced, into a position of power, he had neither wanted nor one that he had been, in any way, ready for.

Misconceptions of his own identity, mostly based on the actions of his late father, his own inexperience in leading more than just soldiers into battle, and the fundamental lack of understanding what the Horde was supposed to be, had turned a young and promising warrior into just another power-hungry fool. 

Vol’jin, son of Sen’jin had already been a leader for his people when he had been named Warchief. The Troll had successfully led his people for years, he had led soldiers into battle, he had started a rebellion, and had inspired those who had chosen to follow him.

Vol'jin had had experience with leading both on and off the battlefield. He had been levelheaded and hadn't been blind to his own failures.

Both his deep understanding of what the Horde was supposed to be, his ability to think outside the box, and his willingness to lay down old grudges in the face of annihilation had given their people a much-needed respite after the mess Garrosh, and in relation Thrall, had dragged them into. 

And because of those reasons, his death had hurt the Horde deeply. 

Oh sure, while the impact of Vol’jin’s death had not been as poignant on the Horde as the death of High King Varian Wrynn had been for the Alliance, but both leaders’ passing had hurt the war effort against the Legion immensely. And Sylvanas sometimes wondered how the war would have progressed if one, or even both of them had survived the Broken Shore. After all, the living were far too eager to forget the bigger picture in the face of their grief and anger.

As for herself, well Sylvanas had never wanted this. She was a Ranger, a warrior, and not a ruler. And certainly not a Warchief.

She had been born and raised by her family to one day become the protector of their people. The position of Ranger-General had loomed over her head ever since her birth. Sylvanas had always known that the life her mother had led, would one day become her own. Leading soldiers and rangers to either victory or death, all for the sake of their families. 

But ruling people, first the Forsaken only, and then the Horde as a whole was another matter entirely. And a good general didn't necessarily make for a good negotiator, talker, or politician.

Leading her Forsaken and being their Queen had never truly felt right.

Sylvanas simply wasn't meant to sit and presided over her people from the safety of their city's walls. The forests were her home, she felt much more comfortable being amongst the trees, surrounded by enemies, with her brothers and sisters standing proudly behind her than she had ever felt amongst the stuffy Elite of Quel'Thalas before her death, or the other World-Leaders after it.

But these people, her Forsaken, had needed her to be their Queen, she had been their beacon for a future. Not a better future, or even a brighter one, but simply just a future.

Sylvanas had never wanted to be Queen, nor had she desired to be Warchief. But her parents hadn’t raised her to run away at the first sign of peril or hardship. 

She had been raised to do what was necessary in the face of opposition and danger. The ranger had not been raised to give up and to flee. She would not cower, she would rise. And risen she had. After everything that had happened to her, in the end, she had been the one to rise victoriously, time and time again.

The former Ranger-General had transformed the Forsaken from a group of half-mad, former slaves into one of the strongest forces Azeroth had ever seen. Both the Champions of the Forsaken as well as the rest of their troops were some of the most feared fighters the Horde had to offer. Their knowledge of subterfuge and the everlasting energy the Forsaken possessed has made them into a formidable fighting force.

Sylvanas knew that her time serving in the army, both as a simple Ranger, but also as it’s General, and the suffering she had experienced ever since the first whispers of an undead army had arrived at their kingdom’s borders, have made her a master at adapting to any possible sudden development. 

After all that had happened with Arthas and later Varithramas, she had done everything in her power to ensure that she would never be caught unaware again. 

Her ability to adapt and to change her plans at any given time had gotten her out of a few tight places over the years. Being prepared to be surprised was not just important for one’s own survival, but also to ensure that those who followed would be able to return home, safe and sound. And while having a few backup plans were well and good, being able to think on one’s feet was even more important.

She guessed that this was probably one of the reasons, as to why _he_ had whispered into Vol’jin’s ear, why _he _had ordered him to name her Warchief. Why _he_ had chosen _her_, out of countless of other possible candidates. _He_ had chosen her to be _his_ Champion.

Sylvanas only barely remembered the first few days after Vol’jin’s death. The entire thing had been a mess. The arrival of the Demon Hunters, the attack during the funeral, sorting through the mess that the Broken Shore had been, reestablishing the communication with the Alliance, trying everything in her power to ensure that the Horde wasn’t entering a two-way war with the Legion and the Alliance, hundreds of different meetings with Champions, other Leaders, the Warlords of the Horde’s army… and of course her vision.

Looking back onto those days, she could barely discern one moment from the next.

But for some reason, she vividly recalled moving into Grommash Hold. Sylvanas remembered arguing with her new advisors about the fact that the Warchief was required to stay in Orgrimmar for most of his or her reign. She also remembered, oftentimes with a smirk, how she had promptly fired those pretentious fools. But in the end, she had conceded that it would be a lot better for morale if the Warchief dwelled in Orgrimmar, and at least pretend to like it, especially during the duration of the Campaign against the Legion.

But it had not just been better for morel, it also had made everything it a lot easier for her. In Orgrimmar she could direct the armies, and the Champions to where they were needed, face to face instead of writing countless letters and summoning the Champions from Orgrimmar to Undercity just to send them somewhere else immediately afterwards. It had also made conferring with the other Leaders much more practical, as unlike with Undercity direct portal networks to the other major Horde cities already existed.

But the tipping point for her had been that she had known that as long as she wasn't in Undercity very often then the Legion was less likely to target her City directly.

So she had moved a bit reluctantly into the private quarters of Grommash Hold in the center of Orgrimmar.

And with three different Warchiefs ruling after Thrall had given up his position to play with his precious elements, said private chambers of the Warchief above the throne room had housed three very different Warchiefs since the Hold had been _moved_ out of the Valley of Wisdom and into the Valley of Strength.

Sylvanas had never gotten the _honor_ to see Thrall’s private chambers in the old Hold. And she also had never seen Garrosh’s, not that she had been very interested in seeing either of those. 

But Sylvanas had seen how Vol’jin had decorated the chambers during his time as Warchief. Except for a few trollish artifacts and touches that reminded her of a time that she would rather forget, the rooms had been very bare.

It hadn't really surprised her, after all, Vol'jin's time as Warchief had almost been as eventful as her own would turn out to be. And after a handful of Vol'jin's tribe members had removed the former Warchief's personal belongings, she never had put much effort into familiarizing the handful of rooms, that she from then on out called her own. So, except for the basic essentials the rooms were still painfully bare, even nearly four years later.

But even if Sylvanas had wanted to put effort into decorating, she had never had the time to do so. One conflict had chased the next. None of the three rooms were very spacious but they had everything Sylvanas or her predecessors needed for the day to day life as Warchief. 

The two smaller rooms were a bed chamber and a small study. Sylvanas didn't use either of them very often. But the largest of the three, a miniature war room, was one that she frequently occupied. Both to work on her paperwork, but also for private meetings with her 'loyalists'.

A large and heavy round wooden table stood in the middle of the room, covered in scrolls and maps, weighed down by paperweights. Various shelves that contained countless scrolls, books, papers, and reports lined the walls. The shelves were completely overflowing and she knew that if her mother would be able to see them then Sylvanas would never hear the end of it, but there was simply no time to organize everything, especially because neither Garrosh nor Vol’jin had been very talented at paperwork. And as there was barely time to sort out her own paperwork, without lagging behind, sorting through a handful of years of badly organized paperwork was not just impossible it was also unnecessary, as most of those papers were long outdated anyway.

She knew that Garrosh never even had the patience to do his own paperwork back when he had been Warchief. And because of that lack of patience, he had pushed most of it off to his advisors. The Banshee had learned a lot through bribed officials and killed runners. Because Garrosh saw bureaucracy as a useless endeavor he had never bothered to check if everything arrived where it had been supposed to arrive. If the boy hadn't gone insane, she would have given him at most two more years before someone would have tried to instigate a coup against him. If she had in any way wanted the title for Warchief, she would have maybe even done so herself.

Vol'jin on the other hand, while not very talented or versed in paperwork, had at least put some effort into it. But it had still been far too easy to get her hands onto some of the reports and letters that she never should have even caught a glimpse of.

That was one of the reasons as to why Sylvanas preferred direct reports from her agents and Champions. Written letters and reports always leave a paper trail. And she couldn't afford that her plans were discovered because of some papers that had gotten into the wrong hands. So, whenever a sensitive report was to be delivered to her, then only her rangers were allowed to be the messengers, and the letters were always burned immediately afterwards.

Currently, the Warchief was reading the latest of reports that had come from Nazjatar, the final field report so to say. Both her Champions and a few of her Rangers had sent her detailed reports on what had happened since Nazjatar had risen from the depths.

Nathanos reported mostly on the overall events from the last two weeks. His letters began the moment Nazjatar had risen from the depths; Sylvanas resisted the urge to roll her eyes, it had been a pain to orchestrate that Azshara would have access to both priceless artifacts to fulfill her part of their bargain. 

And the report ended with the information that N’Zoth had been freed by a combination of Alliance and Horde Champions, assisted by four Leaders, two of Alliance and two of the Horde. Once again the pieces had fallen into place far too easily for her tastes.

Nazjatar had not just been important because it had finally given her access to the Final Seal, but it had also given her the opportunity to test both the Alliance and the Horde, to see if both could still work together against a common enemy. 

The fact that a member of the Kaldorei, Tyrande’s adopted spawn no less, and the new Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras had been ready to work not just with the Horde at all, but also with the leaders of the Nightborne and the leader of the Blood elves showed her that they were still prepared, despite their mutual hatred for each other, to work against a common foe.

She now just needed something that would give them that one last push, the one that would break the metaphorical camel's back. But Sylvanas was slowly running out of atrocities that she could commit, something that would give them an excuse to finally act against her, she was now playing on the fact that Saurfang's rebellion should soon gain enough courage and more importantly man-power to march finally towards Orgrimmar, she was tired of this farce.

Her other Champion's report gave a much more detailed recount of what had happened within Azshara's... _Eternal Palace_. She scoffed at that tidbit of information, the fact that Azshara called her palace _eternal _was ludicrous, nothing was really eternal. 

That woman was even more dramatic than Sylvanas herself, and the former Ranger-General knew that at least some of her behavior and dramatics were mostly just an act to infuriate her enemies and make them act recklessly. But the Naga Queen was simply just arrogant and dramatic because she saw no real danger in those who opposed her. 

Well, now she had been finally proven wrong. The group made up of Champions and Leaders of both sides, had defeated the arrogant Queen, at her own game no less. Sylvanas just wished to know where N'Zoth had taken the woman, she had no idea what was going to happen to Azshara now that she had disappeared. And if the infuriating woman was going to be ally or foe in the future. It could also be that the Old God had simply rid himself of her.

Standing up from her bed she walked over to the fireplace, giving both reports one final glance to ensure that she hadn’t missed anything her eyes focused on one of the parts in Zanris’s report.

_“Azshara used the power of our Hearts to break the Seal.”_

This struck her as… worrisome. Sylvanas wondered for a brief moment if the Hearts of Azeroth could one day prove to be problematic if someone like Azshara could misuse their power so easily.

Putting that thought into the back of her mind, to focus on it at a later time, she threw the handful of papers into the fire, watching as the flames ate away at the thin material until nothing but ash remained.

Turning towards her desk she picked up her clawed gauntlets, she quickly and efficiently fastened them, not allowing herself to get lost in thought again. she also quickly checked if all parts of her armor were secure and properly fastened. After she was satisfied with the state of her armor, she quickly looked around the room. Spotting no more loose and important reports she walked back towards the bed. Sylvanas briefly entertained the thought that she probably would have to burn the Hold to the ground before she left, to ensure that no risky information could land in the wrong hands.

She picked up Deathwhisper as she moved and with one fluid motion sat back down onto the lilac covers. She quickly inspected her bow for any damages, and to ensure that all the enchantments were powered and stable. While she lost herself in her inspection her thoughts returned to everything that she had done these recent years, and would still have to do to ensure that the _vision_, _he _had shown her wouldn't come true…

And with all Five Seals destroyed, N’Zoth freed, Azshara gone for now, and the Alliance and Horde slowly starting to work together again, it was only a matter of weeks until she could initiate the next phase of her plans. They were one step closer to their goal, it was now just a matter of a few weeks and one or two missing parts.

Somewhere beneath her feet, a handful of her _Loyalists _were gathering, tonight they would find probably the most important piece of the puzzle. The cover of the night would give them enough time, to find what they were searching for, and to return before anyone noticed them, and in particular her, being gone.

Sylvanas shook her head, as she let her hands wander over the weapon, she couldn't allow herself to get ahead of herself, there were still a lot of things to consider and becoming overeager could prove to be catastrophic. She and her Loyalists were walking a fine line, and every misstep could mean their and the world's doom. Even now, so close to completion, if her plans were to be discovered then that could mean the end for everything, rendering years of scheming and planning pointless, countless lives lost all for nothing.

She was just about done with the inspection of her weapon when she heard a soft knocking on the heavy wooden doors, that separated the bed-chamber from the war-room. Sylvanas didn't bother to look up as she called out, "enter."

“Dark Lady, Champion Vivianne is ready to open the portal,” Kalira announced as she stepped into the room. 

Sylvanas looked up from her bow. Nodding towards her Ranger, she stood up and fastened Deathwhisper behind her back. Quickly checking if she had everything she would need for the coming mission, her bow, a full quiver, a dagger on her back, a few vials of healing potions and more questionable liquid in various pouches and a small knife hidden in her right boot. Nodding with satisfaction that everything was where it was supposed to be she walked towards the door and passed by her ranger.

She locked her eyes with those of Kalira and with a short nod they both departed from the room.

It did not take the two Rangers long to reach the throne room beneath Sylvanas's private chambers. As Kalira stepped away from her with a respectful nod, the Warchief let her eyes wander over the small group of Forsaken. Two of her rangers, Kalira, Alina, two Dreadguards, Molina and Spiering and two Champions, Lilian Voss and Vivianne, would accompany her on this mission.

They would take a portal directly to the Storm Peaks, and from there it would be a short hike to the vault where the Key was supposed to be stored.

She had originally wanted to take fewer people with her, at best only her Rangers, but she also knew that the facilities the Titans had left behind were not only fiercely guarded but they were also heavily trapped. A mage and a rouge were ideal against such traps and the two Dreadguards worked well as a duo and would help distract the horde of titanic structures from the three elves that would be filling them with arrows.

Nathanos entered the room a few seconds after Sylvanas and Kalira had stepped through the door. He had just returned this afternoon from Nazjatar, and his clothes still smelled like the sea. He bowed before her and only straightened when she nodded at him. The Ranger lord quickly observed the room and the other Forsaken before he turned back to her.

“Everything is going according to plan.”

“Any complications?”

“So far, none. But the more troops we remove and the more plans and routines we rewrite the higher the chance becomes that someone discovers that something fishy is going on.”

“For now that is unimportant, as long as I am still Warchief at least. The sooner we have most of the troops and Champions removed from the public eye the better.”

The raised human smirked darkly, “Should we stake some accidents?”

“To make it seem like some of our troops and Champions have gone missing?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Do so, with N’Zoth now being free something like this is mostly expected to happen. Just don’t do overdo it.”

“Of course not.”

“But hurry up. The rebels are hopefully going to make their move soon, and when I’m not Warchief anymore, your job is going to be a lot harder.”

He bowed his head. “I understand, my lady.”

Without hesitation, she switched topics. "How is the fleet coming along?"

"The teams have found another few ships a few days ago. A handful of them have already been lifted. Our naval architects couldn't tell me yet, which are going to be usable, and which are just going to be scrapped for their material. But they could tell me that we should get at least four more ships out of them."

“Where were these ships found?”

“West of Northrend.”

“Good, how many ships would that make?”

“If we don’t lose anymore within the next few weeks, I would say around forty ships, give or take.”

“So, they should be enough?”

“I, and more importantly the admiralty think so.”

She hummed, “So we have enough men, ships, and the cover is still intact. Do we have enough weapons and armor and other equipment?”

“We should have, every Soldier, Champion or otherwise, has been ordered to bring their own equipment with them. We amassed enough material over the last few years to repair and craft new equipment, and even if there aren’t any resourced we could use, we still should have enough for a few months of permanent siege.”

With a small burst of energy, the portal was finally open, and Sylvanas could see through it. It was snowing heavily on the other side. She nearly sighed out loud, this would not be a fun journey. But they could not postpone this any longer. With every day that passed their enemies grew stronger and stronger and more and more of her Forsaken fell to the weapons of the Alliance. Sylvanas turned her eyes away from the portal to focus on her Champion, his face was impassive but she saw his exhaustion and knew that she felt similar.

“Return to the fleet, my Champion. And ensure that everything is going according to plan. I call for you if I need you again.”

He nodded, bowing his head in respect. “Of course my lady.”

“Very well, dismissed.” Sylvanas only spared him another glance, and not another thought, as the Champion quickly turned around to leave the Hold, she knew that he would carry out her orders to the latter. 

Sylvanas meanwhile looked at the six Forsaken who would accompany her tonight, catching their eyes she looked for any hesitation for the task they had before them. The Warchief nodded satisfied when she only found determination for the task at hand. She hadn't told the Forsaken everything about what was to come, but they knew the general gist of it, and could imagine what would happen to their world should the Old Gods remain unopposed.

Without waiting for another moment she strode towards the portal, only pausing for a brief moment when she felt the cold wind biting at her skin, even through the portal. It seemed as if the elements weren't on their side tonight. Bracing herself she stepped through it, and yet the freezing storm still nearly knocked her right back into the portal, but she fought against it and distanced herself from the glowing portal so that the others could travel safely through it. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness and heavily reduced visibility, and she realized why the storm was so strong, the portal had deposited them very high up in the mountains. The winds around her howled so loudly that she could only barely hear how the others followed her through the portal.

The Warchief looked around briefly, she had memorized various maps these past few weeks and it seemed as if the mage had managed to bring them as close to the titan-forged facility as she could have dared without either teleporting them directly into a mountain or on top of a trap that could be guarding the entrance.

Sylvanas waited quietly while for the others to walk through the portal, she only moved again when the portal snapped shut behind Vivianne, who had crossed through last so that she could keep control over it. 

Despite already being relatively close to their destination, and because of the horrid weather it took them nearly an hour of pushing themselves through the heavy storm and the thick layers of snow. As the group of seven approached the place where the entrance was supposed to be, they only found thick layers of ice and snow. Sylvanas narrowed her eyes, and Voss next to her tilted her head slightly.

“This should be it, shouldn’t it?” The rouge asked into the round. Her uncommon, at least among the Forsaken, glowing blue eyes were narrowed.

“Yes it is the right place, it seems as if the elements are trying everything in their power to keep us away from it. First the storm and now this.” Turning around to look where Champion Vivianne stood, “Champion do you think you can do something about that?” Sylvanas gestured towards masses blocking the entrance from view.

“Yes, Dark Lady. That should be no trouble, it’s just a bit frozen water after all.” Vivianne answered her without taking her eyes away from the entrance.

The mage stepped slowly away from the group. She stopped a few meters away from them, roughly halfway to the entrance to the vault. The air around them grew slightly warmer as the Forsaken began to cast a spell, an orange glow emitted from her hands, at first softly but it quickly began to grow in intensity.

And that was their only kind of warning before a massive blast of fire erupted from Vivianne’s hands. The fire instantly melted the masses of snow and ice around them, uncovering the gate and freeing the Forsaken from the soft layer of powder that had begun to cover them. And despite the fire engulfing them nearly completely, it neither burned their skin nor their clothes, it only melted away the snow.

Sylvanas was glad that she had chosen to take this particular mage with them, while Vivianne wasn’t the most powerful of mages the Forsaken had at their disposal, her precise level of control would give them a huge advantage while they searched for what they had come for.

“Dreadguards to the front. Rangers protect our mage. And keep your eyes open. Enemies could be around every corner.” She ordered.

"Yes, Warchief!" Several voices answered in unison.

With one last glance at her surroundings her she stepped past Vivianne and onto the gate that separated the outside world from the vault beneath them, the others right behind her. Kneeling in the center of the platform she found and activated the rotate switch, causing the machine beneath them to groan and to power up. The platform shuddered once and then began the slow descent into the titanic-vault. 

Sylvanas gestured for her rangers and the others to stay behind her, confident in the knowledge that the six would obey her orders, she walked without looking back through the archway before her. It had taken them quite a few hours of constantly fighting titanic constructs, dodging traps and maneuvering through what seemed to be a labyrinth. But now they had finally found the room they had been searching for. 

When they had entered that last corridor with the large and heavy-looking door at its end Sylvanas had known that this was it, even before countless enemies had attacked them. After fighting through them, they had struggled for a while to open said door. And behind it, they had found a giant, but mostly empty round room. Well, it had been empty for a few moments, because only seconds after the door had sprung open a giant blue projection had spawned in its the center.

It was tall, at least five to six meters in height, it had the typical form of a Titan, broad shoulders, a lean build, and a full beard. But it was just a light projection, bathing the large room with his blue glow. It stood in the center of the room, a large golden chest rested at its feet. 

Sylvanas stepped towards it, and the projected tilted its head at her, its large glowing eyes were unblinking as they scanned her much smaller form. She stopped a few meters away from it, carefully placing herself so she was still mostly out of its presumed reach. Sylvanas rested her weight on her right side and waited for the structure to address her.

**Scanning intruder**

**Detecting: Sylvanas Windrunner**

**Conclusion: Not a threat**

**Statement: You have come for the Sphere**

“And who are you?” She raised one eyebrow, thoroughly unimpressed with the projection standing in front of her. She had faced down Gods, and this was just a fragment of titanic powers. It was tall she could give it that, and the glow in which it had appeared from had been slightly impressive but she had expected more from the guardian the Titan’s had left behind to project the Key that opened the gates to different worlds. If it came to it, she would show it how much of a threat she really was.

**Question registered**

**Answer: I am the Keeper of the Key of Gates, the Keeper of the last Gate Sphere**

**Statement: Your arrival has been foretold**

Sylvanas twitched. She heard her Forsaken shift behind her, they were uneasy and she could not say that she blamed them. The statement surprised her as well. Who could have-?

“By whom?”

Sylvanas's eyes narrowed as the projection in front of her seemed to flinch, it's entire 'body' shaking, and contorting for just the briefest of moments. And then the strange behavior stopped as suddenly as it had begun. The projection tilted its head slightly as it focused its eyes back on her.

**Question registered**

**Answer: Classified**

**Statement: You will take the Sphere with you**

**Thesis: You have questions**

She narrowed her eyes but resisted asking again. Sylvanas knew, based on her experience with titanic construct over the last few years, that the projection wouldn't give her what she wanted anyway. Coupled with the fact that her time with the projection was probably limited anyway she chose not to ask asking pointless questions.

So she swallowed her pride, and her gut reaction and instead asked, “Yes, I have, for one how am I supposed to use this… Sphere?”

**Question registered**

**Answer: You need a corresponding power to enter the world you desire to**

A corresponding power, did it mean-?

“A what? What is that even supposed to mean?”

**Questions registered**

**Answer: To enter the realm of the dead, known as the Shadowlands, you need to find a power that is attuned to the powers of death**

She knew it and she hated it, this would not go over well. There were very few individuals out there who commanded the powers of the dead who she even wanted to approach without shooting them first.

Coupled with the fact that this mere projection, that originated from the times that were long gone was aware of her goals was deeply unsettling. Dormant for millennials and yet still aware of something like this. Something that has been kept hidden from most of the world, with only a few select individuals aware of what was really going on.

“I’m assuming we are talking about large amounts of power.” She said instead, she would not allow herself to show weakness in front of this thing, her warriors or whatever mystical power was playing the game now.

**Statement registered**

**Answer: Yes.**

Well this just made it worse, a being of the dead and then also powerful enough to power the Sphere, this reduced the list of possible candidates, a list that was already quite short, even more

“And when I have such a power, how can I activate the sphere then?”

**Question registered**

**Answer: Travel to the coordinates where you want to open the gate, then focus power into the sphere, the more power the greater the gate.**

Well, that didn't sound too hard, but she guessed that there had to be some kind catch.

“How long until the gate closes again?”

**“Question registered **

**Answer: Standard time estimated through the star of this system in relation to the Titan Azeroth. Calculating: Roughly 30 minutes**

And there it is.

“That’s not a lot of time,” she muttered mostly to herself but the titanic projection answered nonetheless.

**Statement registered**

**Answer: That is subjective.**

She rolled her eyes but refrained from making another sarcastic comment, obviously, this projection was not programmed to detect sarcasm.

**Question: Any more questions?**

“The Sphere is in the chest?”

**Question registered**

**Answer: Yes**

**Suggestion: If there are not any more questions, I suggest you take the Sphere and leave, the advanced defense systems of the facility are powering up**

“I’m assuming that that is not a good thing for us?” Alina called from her place at the doorway. Her voice sounded slightly impatient, so far there hadn’t been any new enemies for them to hold of, but none of the Forsaken wanted to stay there for much longer, these facilities had the uncanny trait to become uncomfortable really fast.

**Question registered**

**Scanning intruder**

**Detecting: Alina Duskweaver**

**Conclusion: Not a threat**

When Sylvanas glanced back to the group, she saw that Alina seemed almost offended to be classified as non-threatening. Sylvanas smirked when she turned back to the projection standing before her.

**Answer: No, for you it isn't a good _thing_. **

Now even the projection was starting to sound condescending. She was getting sick of running through these ancient halls. Sylvanas was really starting to hate the Titans and the things they left behind on Azeroth before they left their world behind.

**The advanced defense systems are programmed to destroy any and all organic intruders within the facility when it is fully powered up**

The Banshee was not worried as she stepped towards the large chest. They would be out of here soon enough. Kneeling down she unlocked the latch and pushed the upper part of the large chest open. A large glowing Sphere hovered in the center of the chest. The projection watched from above as she inspected the powerful artifact. 

**Statement: If there are no further questions, I will proceed to shut down**

When no one spoke up the projection proceed to do just that. Within seconds it had disappeared again. Sylvanas slowly reached inside and lightly touched the Sphere, gasping sharply as power rushed through her hand and up her arm, she quickly yanked it back again. Sylvanas was dimly aware that one of the Forsaken at the door had abandoned their post to rush towards her when they had heard her let out a gasp. 

But she barely paid them any mind, just a wave of her hand to show whoever it was that she was fine. Sylvanas never took her eyes away from the glowing and hovering Sphere, she frowned at it, the blasted thing was filled to the brim with raw power. 

But she supposed it had to be that way if this small thing was capable of ripping open a gate between different planes of existence. Sylvanas stood back up, her hand was still tingling with the amount of power that had been pushed through it. She took one last look at the black glowing Sphere before she closed the chest again. 

Turning around she mentioned for the other five, to come closer. Alina, the one who had rushed towards her, had her eyes trained on Sylvanas's hand, the one that had touched the Sphere just moments ago. While the others came closer, the Duskweaver raised one eyebrow, in the same way, that her older brother was so fond of doing.

"Everything alright, my lady?" She asked softly, slipping into Thalassian.

Sylvanas nodded towards Alina, “It just tingles a bit.”

Alina hummed, “I can feel it, the resulting energy of the Sphere is still around your hand.”

Kalira stopped next to the youngest Duskweaver, the other ranger’s eyes also focused onto Sylvanas’s right hand. 

The two Champions and the two Dreadguards had also reached them by now, but it seemed as if neither of the four raised humans had noticed what the two rangers had. Sylvanas wondered briefly if that was because of the typical elven affinity for magic and the arcane. But then why didn't Vivianne notice it.

“It also seems to bleed through the chest.” Kalira murmured, still in Thalassian.

Sylvanas nodded, and glanced back towards the offending chest, she had hoped that it would contain the Sphere's energy more efficiently, but it seems as if it was simply not enough. "It is a very powerful artifact, so it doesn't really surprise me that it leaves such traces behind. But that also means that we have to find a way to hide it." She also spoke in Thalassian.

Alina tilted her head at the chest before her eyes seemed to light up slightly. "How about my family's crypt?"

"Your crypt?" Kalira asked the older Ranger skeptically.

“Yes, the wards should be enough to contain the escaping energy. And nobody goes there anyway, Alyzra can’t open it anymore, Ayron would never set foot into the crypt, he hasn’t done so since our brother’s funeral- And Lynaria wouldn’t dare to enter, Zanris would rip her in half if she ever dared to set foot into the crypt again.”

Sylvanas nodded, it seemed like a good plan and it was far better than trying to hide it in Orgrimmar, the risk was simply too high, and she had no other idea where to put the chest with the artifacts, where it would both be hidden and protected. "Very well, the crypt it is."

The Banshee Queen turned away from her Rangers, and towards the rest of her small group. “Vivianne open us a portal. Molina, Spiering you take the chest. If anything happens to it, I will show you just how painful it is to have the necromantic powers that keep you alive ripped away from you.”

The two Dreadguards saluted and took the heavy chest between them, her rangers and Lillian standing around them.

“Where to my lady? I don’t think that you want to hide it in Orgrimmar.” Vivianne guessed.

“You are right, we can’t bring it to Orgrimmar. But I know where we can hide it. Open a portal into the Ghostlands near the Windrunner village. I suppose you know where that is? We are going to store it in the Duskweaver family crypt.”

“Okey…” Vivianne slowly dragged the word out as she began to cast. 

Alina chuckled at the honest confusion in the mage’s voice.

"Our family crypt is protected by very powerful spells because it also protects many of our family heirlooms. It is not just a grave for our ancestors. The power of the Sphere will mingle with the powers of the artifacts and the various shields, masking its presence to others. And as nobody outside of our family even knows how to open the crypt it is the perfect hiding place.”

“I’m just not going to question the fact that we are going to store one of Azeroth’s most powerful artifacts within a tomb," Lillian grumbled sarcastically.

"Believe me, Voss, we have stored stranger things in our Crypt," Alina joked.

“Do I even want to know?” Kalira asked the older Ranger with a raised eyebrow.

“According to the Keeper of the Sphere, it is only going to open a gate to the Shadowlands, a land of the dead, if a being that is connected to the same realm powers is. And this being has to be powerful, or the Sphere is going to consume whoever tries to use it." Sylvanas informed the people that had gathered in a circle before her throne. 

Champion Nathanos Blightcaller, Deathlord Zanris Duskweaver, Master Apothecary Faranell, Deathstalker Commander Belmont and her lead Val’kyr Aradne had joined her at this late hour, to discuss their next steps. 

Five of her nine Lieutenants. Those brave men and women, and Val'kyr, who would lead her Forsaken, her forces, in the upcoming war. The four that were missing were Captain Areiel Summerspear, and Captain Delaryn Summermoon, both Rangers were busy carrying out her orders, Dread-Admiral Tattersail was the third that was missing, but she was busy with the fleet, and keeping an eye on everything else.

The last lieutenant that was missing was Lilian Voss, who didn't even know that she would soon become one of her lieutenants. Sylvanas had long since wanted to promote the woman, she was resourceful, strong, and with a bright head on her shoulders, she deserved a far better role than she currently occupied. Lilian Voss would soon lead most of the Forsaken Champions, and while they didn't necessarily need a leader in the traditional sense, they definitely needed someone who could speak for them. Voss would be the voice for the Champions among Sylvanas's council, and Sylvanas's ears among the Champions.

“Any suggestions?” She prodded when they remained silent.

“A Lich?” Belmont suggested quietly looking around the room, to gauge the reaction of the others as they took his suggestion in.

Faranell shook his head. "No, while they are powerful, they aren't stable enough. I believe the Sphere would be able to rip them apparat regardless of the amount of magical strength they possess. They most likely won’t die given that their phylactery probably won’t be destroyed in the process. But I doubt that they would be able to open up the gate, before the power of the artifact bounds back onto them.” The Apothecary quickly shot that suggestion down.

"And you can't trust Liches," Zanris growled from where he was leaning against the wall near the door, with his arms crossed in front of his armored chest. He had pulled his helmet off after he had entered and his hair was slightly more disheveled than usual. The necklace, one of the many Hearts of Azeroth, around his neck, pulsed softly. Sylvanas watched as he closed his eyes in thought, she knew that he was most likely going through possible candidates in his head. But according to the frown that formed on his face he was most likely just as stuck as the rest of them.

“Yes, the Deathlord is right. I would prefer it if a Lich would be our last resort.” Nathanos added.

“But then who else has enough power?” Belmont asked.

“You, my lord?” Faranell had turned towards the Deathlord, but the elf scoffed.

“No, I’m not that arrogant to believe that I could power an artifact crafted by the Titans, that was created to be powerful enough to open a gate to different worlds.”

“What about you Dark Lady?” Belmont asked.

“No, I agree with the Deathlord, it is far too risky. I felt the power of the Sphere when I touched it. It would tear me apart should I try to use it. And while I have a handful of possible candidates, the fact remains that those kinds of people, those versed in death magic, aren’t often to be trusted.”

The leader of the Dreadguard nodded, coinciding her point. "Well, I'm out of ideas…" The Commander grumbled as he sat down onto the ground, his armor rattling along with his uncovered bones.

"That didn't take very long," Faranell muttered.

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Belmont growled as he glared at the standing man over him.

Sylvanas leaned back in her throne, silently thinking over who would both be powerful enough with death magic, while also being trustworthy, at least to some capacity. She nearly growled out loud when she came up empty, feeling her ears lowering she tried to relax, getting angry would server no one. 

When she felt a pull through the bond with her Val’kyr she glanced towards Aradne, the glowing being was floating next to her throne. When the beautiful creature nodded towards her, she knew that there was only one being that would be strong enough to withstand the Sphere’s power, and she hated to even consider it. Zanris who had narrowed his eyes when he had spotted their silent communication, stiffened now across the room, and Sylvanas knew that he most likely had come to the same conclusion.

“It’s obvious isn’t it?” She drawled, and nearly all eyes turned towards her. 

“What is obvious, my lady?” Nathanos askes as he took a step closer to the center of the room, closer towards her throne.

“The answer to our problem. As much as we hate it, we all know that there is just one being that could be powerful enough to use the artifact without destroying itself in the process.” Zanris spoke up. His eyes were still closed but his shoulders were so tense that it was visible even through the heavy armor he wore.

"The Lich King," Faranell whispered.

A chill seemed to sweep through the room at the mere mention of the monster that was imprisoned at the top of Icecrown Citadel.

“But would he really help us?” Belmont asked the person who was tasked with supervising the activities of the cruel being, five sets of eyes turned towards the Deathlord.

“No.” The elf finally opened his eyes again and shook his head. His voice was firm and the harsh glare he sent Belmont at the mere idea spoke volumes.

“But Bolvar Fordragon was a hero, and he has kept the Lich King successfully contained-," Belmont argued.

“Until now, but that is quickly changing.”

“What do you mean?” Nathanos asked from the foot of Sylvanas’s throne, he hadn't relaxed his shoulders ever since the Lich King had been mentioned.

Zanris took a deep unnecessary breath, “Whoever Bolvar was before he took the Helmet, that person is mostly gone, consumed by the entity that is the Lich King. He won't help us. It is just a matter of time now until the second war against the Scourge breaks out."

“How long?” Nathanos asked.

“At this point, I would say a few months to a year. He has been mostly dormant, until recently. During the recent Invasion of the Legion, he has awoken several times to speak with me. Gave me visions and aided me in our fight against the Legion. As far as I know, other Champions have come into contact with him as well. One of my sisters being one those Champions.”

"Then why didn't we know about this be-" Nathanos growled angrily at her other Champion, as he took a threatening step towards the unimpressed elf.

Sylvanas spoke up sharply, startling Nathanos out of his rage. “Enough Nathanos, I knew about it.”

The human ranger turned back towards her, "My lady?" His voice was shaky and full of anger.

She nodded. "Zanris has kept me updated. I thought it best not to inform any of you, as our focus, for now, should be on the Old Gods, we deal with the Lich King after the greater threat has been destroyed."

He nodded his head in understanding. "Of course, my lady. Forgive me, it's just…" Nathanos trailed off, unsure of how to proceed without angering her again.

"I can understand your anger, my Champion. But we can't let our emotions get away from us, not now. The Old Gods may not be able to manipulate or corrupt us as they can do with the living, but that doesn't mean that they can't play with our emotions, or try to turn us against each other."

Belmont cleared his throat, in the silence that had settled between the small group. “But could it not be that Bolvar has just been helping us against the Legion?” Belmont suggested quietly.

"No, that was the Lich King. I'm sure of it, none of you may know it, but there is always a difference when you talk with him. It is quite easy to recognize the voice of the Lich King and the voice of the Host. And the voice that spoke to me was the voice of the Lich King. All of you, except for Aradne, were freed shortly before Arthas took the Helm of Domination. So, you never truly knew him as the Lich King, just as one of his Death knights."

“What are you talking about? Isn’t the Lich King just a title?”

"No, that is not exactly correct. The Lich King is so much more than just a mere title. I'm not sure how much you know but the Lich King was originally a tool for the Legion. The orc Ner'zhul was punished for his failures by Kil'jaeden. His spirit was imprisoned in the Helm of Domination and he became the spectral being that is now known as the Lich King. When Arthas took the Helmet, the spirit of the orc tried to force the bastard into submission, but somehow the human was stronger than the spirit. He consumed the spirit that had once been Ner'zhul, merging his subconsciousness with the spirit. With that whatever remained of Arthas became the Lich King, there was no more separation from that point forward. Until-“

He broke off and gazed away from them, his eyes became distant as he stared into the fires that illuminated the room. 

“Until he was defeated and dying.” Nathanos guessed.

Sylvanas remained silent through it all, she had heard this story before, from many different sources. So, she knew that the Deathlord was trying to say with the little History lesson.

"Yes, in his last moments. I can't remember it very clearly, as we were all just recently resurrected by the late Terenas Menethil, but-“

"Wait for a second! What did you say happened?" Belmont interrupted, his voice filled with disbelief.

Zanris sighed, “when our battle against the Lich King was nearly over, the monster revealed his last devastating card. He killed all of us with one hit. Over thirty of the strongest Champions Azeroth had ever seen, at the time at least, died with one blast from the Bastard. He had planned to lure us to him, so that he could test us, to see if we had it in us to be the vanguard of his forces. But Fordring managed to break free from his prison and destroy Frostmourne, freeing many of the souls imprisoned in the sword, including Terenas Menethil II. His spirit came and brought us back to life.”

Sylvanas watched from her throne as three of her lieutenants, experienced as they were, were rendered utterly speechless, she had already heard the story a few times, so she wasn't surprised by their reaction. It was an unbelievable story, even after so many years. Even after everything they had seen since then, the final battle against Arthas still seemed surreal for someone who hadn’t been there.

She cleared her throat. “While that is very interesting, we should get back on track. Deathlord, continue.”

“Yes, my lady. In Arthas Menethil’s last moments the broken figure on the floor was not the Lich King or the Monster he had been as a Death knight. No, it was once again Arthas the human prince.”

“Then that means-“ Faranell spoke up quietly, he sounded completely petrified. Which was really saying something as the man was the Master Apothecary, and he was used to dealing with horrific sights and facts.

“Yes, the merged spirit of the monster that Arthas had become, that had merged with the spirit of the Lich King of Ner’zhul still exists in that Helmet.”

“So Bolvar fights against the combined brutality of Ner’zhul and monstrous side of Arthas.” Nathanos summed up. Even though his voice did not betray him, his tense shoulders did. He liked the fact as much as Faranell did.

“There was no winning for him. It was always just a matter of time until we would have to kill him as well, starting the cycle anew. Our end goals are clear. The Old Gods are just another stepping stone towards that goal.”

“So, I’m guessing that the Lich King won’t help us?” Belmont asked.

“No.”

"But we could still use his powers," Nathanos grumbled his red eyes focused on the Northrend part on the map beneath their feet.

“Explain Champion.”

“Yes, Dark Lady, what if we, let’s say, _elected_ a new Lich King.”

“Yes, that is a good idea! But… but whose will would be strong enough to defy the Helm, in the long run? Our war could go on for years!” Faranell cried out in despair, he sounded quite dramatic and his flailing hands added only to that.

Sylvanas hated to admit it, but the apothecary had a point. There were not a lot of people who could do this, and then even less who were even willing to do it.

“I could do it,” Nathanos spoke up quietly, drawing all eyes to him in the process.

“Don’t flatter yourself Blightcaller. Your will is not that strong,” The Apothecary snarked at him.

Sylvanas rolled her eyes as watched from atop of her throne how two of her lieutenants began to argue. Leaving the two for now to their disagreement she looked at the others. Belmont looked completely unimpressed by the fight that was going on above him. While his eyes were focused on the two bickering men, his mouth had drawn into a very thin line. He looked almost like an exhausted instructor watching two of his recruits fight amongst themselves instead of following his orders. But he also wasn’t very forthcoming with suggestions on his own.

“Well who else should do it? You?!” Nathanos growled so low in his throat that for a moment he resembled the Mutt-King. 

Sylvanas had to stifle an amused chuckle, she smirked instead as she shifted in her seat, throwing one of her legs over the other, and with that movement drew the eyes of Zanris to her. He looked at her for only a brief moment before his frown seemed to harden even more, his blue eyes blazed as they bored holes into the heads of the two arguing men.

“Ha, it would still be a better choice than you.”

Nathanos growled again and picked Faranell up by his robes, until he towered over the smaller man, nearly pressing their noses together as he yanked the man closer.

“Hey! Hands off!” The Master Apothecary cried.

“Enough!” An unexpected scream startled the two out of their rage. Blinking with befuddlement they looked towards the source of the sound.

Surprisingly it had not been Sylvanas who had made her displeasure known. The Warchief looked over towards her Val’kyr. Aradne had been the source of the scream, she glowed brightly with unholy powers as she made her anger known. Sylvanas’s smirk widened as she watched her Val’kyr tear into the two men.

“Neither of you would be suitable to host the power of the Helm of Domination. Its spirit and power would crush you within days if not hours! So, for once in your miserable little existences shut your mouths and let the adults talk!”

That one startled a laugh out of Belmont, his shoulders shook causing his bones and armor to rattle loudly. The different sounds mixed. His ghostly echoing laugh, the rattling of bones and the sound metal clanking against metal created an atmosphere that could only be enjoyed by one as cursed as they had become. 

“I did not know you had it in you Aradne but that was wonderful. Oh, you should have seen your faces, ha priceless.” And again, Belmont roared with laughter, obviously enjoying the discomfort the Val’kyr had put the two men in.

“Why you-“

"Enough Nathanos!" Sylvanas finally interfered. As competent as they could be, and as important, they were for her plans these three could still irritate her on the best of days. The Banshee was once again glad that she could not develop a headache anymore.

“But-“ The man tried again.

She leveled him with a hard stare and he backed off.

"I have no time for your useless arguments, nor your pointless excuses. As Aradne said, neither of you is suitable to wear the Helm, so instead of wasting our time arguing about something that has already been decided. Let's instead try to find a solution."

She stared at them until both men backed away from each other and looked successfully cowed by her glare.

“Well then miss Val’kyr, who do you think is strong enough to resist the will of the Helm?” Faranell asked after he had adjusted his robes into some semblance of order.

“There are not many… not anymore. The world’s greatest Champions are weakened from their war against the Legion. And most individuals who would have been strong enough either died or had to sacrifice too much in recent years to be considered.”

"Well isn't that just wonderful… We have a solution but nobody that could do it," Faranell grumbled.

Sylvanas closed her eyes and drew upon the bond with Aradne. She showed the Val’kyr two mental pictures and when she received something that resembled reluctant agreement, she opened her eyes again and found Zanris staring right back at her. The man had not moved from his place against the wall, his arms were still crossed in front of his chest and his feet were pushed stubbornly into the ground. The man had been tense throughout the entire meeting, but now he looked particularly high-strung.

She stood up from her chair, drawing the attention back to her, her lieutenants had mostly argued among themselves, while she had been distracted, quietly discussing various possible candidates.

“I will do it. I will wear the Helm of Domination and claim the title of the next Lich King.”

Silence greeted her announcement but she had expected as such. They all knew her hatred for the Lich King, she who had lost as much as them to the monster imprisoned in the North, she who had also lost so much more than them. In their eyes she had not even been a possibility, they had not even considered asking her, not because they did not think her strong enough but because they had never expected her to do so in the first place.

“No!” Zanris growled objection startled the others out of their shock. Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed at his audacity, how dare he-

“Out!” When the others did not heed his command immediately and instead just starred between him and their Queen, his eyes and necklace began to glow brightly with barely restrained power.

“Out!” He roared, as the temperature in the room quickly fell into the negative double digits. The frozen Knight glared at them until both Faranell and Belmont finally fled from the room. Aradne had long since disappeared. Everyone had left, except for Nathanos, his red eyes had narrowed deeply, and while he glared at the elf his hand had slowly begun to reach for his weapon.

“Get out Nathanos. I will deal with him.”

“My queen-“

“Did I stutter?” She growled. Sylvanas watched him as he fled from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

Whirling towards Zanris, she stalked closer to the now shaking man, but not with fear no he was shaking because he was furious, she snarled, she would show him fear. She raised her right hand and smacked him hard across the face, or she would have had he not raised his own hand and had caught her arm mid-swing. Their eyes locked with each other, his cold blue met her blazing red.

“How dare you-“

“How dare I? How dare I?! My lady, forgive me. But we both know that this is madness.”

“Madness-?!” She near screamed at him.

“Yes, madness!”

“What-“ She snarled at him, and when she tried to yank her arm out of his frozen grip the held on just that much tighter, her gauntlet began to bent and groan under a grip that could crush skulls.

"Let me speak, dammit! What do you think is going to happen, when your subjects see you with that blasted Helmet?” He asked her but when she attempted to answer or at least to try to make sense of whatever direction this fight had sprinted off to, he spoke again.

“They see their savior, the woman who freed them. The one who gave them purpose, safety, a goal, a direction and so much more, wearing the object that is practically one of the two symbols of their damnation! They see their savior, their Queen, commanding the Hordes of Scourge that still linger up there in the North, binding those soulless and mindless bodies to your will. They would lose their faith in you! They would not trust you as a leader anymore! Our army would fracture quicker than the Horde does on a good day! And then what? Yes, we may reach the Shadowlands, but what then? How are we supposed to achieve our goal without an army?!” He roared again, without looking away from her eyes.

He was panting by the end of his rant even though he had no physical need for air, and Sylvanas for her part was startled by his emotional outburst. She had not seen him this emotional since the funerals during and after the Second War. She once again tried to pull her arm free, but his grip did not slack in the slightest.

“Release me,” she commanded and when he hesitated, she growled, “now!”

When she once again tried to free her arm from his grasp, he allowed it and proceeded to uncurl his fingers with creaks of metal. They both took a step away from each other, visibly trying to calm down again. The glow of both of their eyes lessened, darkness stopped swirling around her form, and the room began to slowly heat up again.

“Would you stop me?” she asked quietly once they both had subsequently calmed down, “would you stop me from taking the Helm?”

"Yes," he whispered, without hesitation or doubt, "this would be the one order I would not follow, the one I could not follow. For this, I would choose to defy you."

“This is personal is it not? While you are right about the Forsaken, I don’t think that you would have reacted as emotionally, if it had just been about that. So why?”

He shook his head, and when it almost seemed as if he wouldn't answer, after a few long moments of silence, he opened his mouth. His words were hesitant as if he was choosing them carefully one by one.

"I can't allow you to place this burden on your shoulders. I pledged myself to you, swore to follow you to hell and back. I followed you since your mother's death, into each and every battle. I followed you into countless conflicts without question or hesitation both before and after our deaths. I trusted you because I knew you, and I knew that you knew yourself, your limits and your strengths. There was never any doubt in my mind that if you would lead us, then you would lead us to victory. But this is the one thing where I draw the line. There would be no way for you to turn away from that path once you start to walk it. I already failed twice. I won't do so a third time."

She shook her head, still incredibly angry, but calmer now that she had answers. It was his oath that prevented her from agreeing with her plan. The same oath that had once caused him to stay behind with his unit, and to face Arthas’s scourge just to buy her a few minutes. 

And yet still. “We need someone to do it. And there is no other who can do it. We can’t trust the living or anyone outside of our combined forces. And there are not many within my Forsaken who could fight the monster inside the Helm,” Sylvanas drawled slowly, she had a feeling where this was going.

He didn’t hesitate this time. “Let me carry it. My will is strong, I can do it,” he vowed, almost softly.

Sylvanas wanted to just dismiss the thought outright, but she also knew that if anyone would be able to do it, it would be him. Zanris Duskweaver had always been horrible stubborn and strong-willed. He had once been a great leader and a good teacher, with the patience of a saint. He was strong and powerful enough to bear the Helm, but she felt that this would be the wrong decision, it felt wrong to even think about it. She knew somehow that allowing him to take the Helm would be the wrong decision. But didn't she also feel like that when she announced that she would be the one to wear the Helmet of Domination? This strange gut instinct had served her well these last few years, and she had learned not to ignore it. Sometimes she wondered if it was _him _guiding her along her way, pushing her in the right direction.

Oh, how she wished that she would have gotten such a feeling shortly before she had ordered to burn Teldrassil, maybe then she would have had the strength not to give the order. But the feeling had never come.

Choosing not to say anything, she walked back to her throne. She threw one leg over the armrest and slouched in the large throne, Zanris meanwhile had not moved, he was still stiff and overflowing with tension, but the glow of his eyes had returned to normal.

“Would your Knights follow you?” She drawled, instead of voicing her previous thoughts out loud.

"No," he shook his head, "from then on out they would only keep an eye on me, as they do with the current Lich King. I would have to name a new Deathlord or give the command back to Mograine. But while the man is a relatively competent leader, he is not as loyal to you as I am. He would follow you into hell for the sake of the world but he would also stab you in the back if he felt that it would achieve his goals. And a new leader would fracture the Knights again, maybe even drive away some of the Death knights who are still feeling loyalty towards the Alliance," he grumbled the last part.

“Then it is out of the question. We need your Death knights.” Her voice was firm.

“But is it not better to fracture a small part of our forces instead of dividing our whole army?”

“Small yes, but a few of your knights are just as strong as an entire battalion of my Forsaken.”

“But then who-?”

“We still have a little while before we have to decide that. We can’t take the blasted thing to early or the Alliance or Saurfang’s rebels-“ she scowled in distaste, “figure out that something is going on.”

“Do you have a way to end-“

“Yes… but that also has to wait until the last moment.”

He tilted his head, as he asked. She got the feeling that he was glad that she was choosing to change the topic. “What do you have planned?”

“I’m going to use Saurfang’s twisted view on _honor_ and his _love_ for the Horde and tradition against him.”

“Oh, this sounds interesting. What have you planned my lady?”

“While Saurfang is, or better yet _was_, a strong warrior once, his old age has made him weak. If there is a way to avoid further death especially between the Horde and his little group of rebels, then he is going to take it.”

“Are you going to kill him?”

“While his rebellion was advantageous towards my plans, he is still a traitor. And I despise traitors. He betrayed me first, lured others away to his little Rebellion, so he is the one who is going to die for his actions and those who followed him. And on top of betraying me, he signed his death sentence the moment he killed _one _of my Rangers.” Sylvanas saw his eyes flash dangerously at the mention of Lyana’s death. “Even if I won’t come back from our war, I don’t plan to allow that bastard the satisfaction of defeating me.”

He sighed. “Very well…”

"You don't agree?" Sylvanas raised an eyebrow, curious about his answer, she knew that the elf standing in front of her had never forgiven any of the Orcs for the actions of those during the Second War.

"No, I agree, Saurfang is a hypocrite, an honorless bastard who preaches about honor day in and out. Where is there honor in betraying your Warchief? In mocking the vows, you take when you swear to follow your Warchief as long as you are part of the Horde? He followed Garrosh blindly until the end because both of them are orcs. If you had been born an orc then he would not have batted an eye about your actions!" He chuckled briefly, but it was an unamused sound, he sounded just as exhausted as she felt.

"I have never liked him, or Orcs in general, don't know if this has to do with the Second War or with their worthless stance on fighting and dying with honor. Honor is for tournaments and duels, not for wars and battlefields.” He scoffed the disgust clear in his voice. “A general has no use for a soldier who would doom his people because he feels that fighting against the enemy would go against his honor.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest again and lifted his eyes, for the first time since they broke off their fight, his eyes met hers. 

“The orcs came into our world as conquerors and monsters, as _honorless _machines. And that is fine with me, to be honest, I prefer it like that. At least back then they had been honest about who and what they really had been. But now he is just an old man hiding behind the broken and destroyed traditions of his people. Should have just thrown himself into an army of demons during the conflict against the Legion, there were enough moments for him to die then and there. Ridding us of his presence. An honorable death, what a joke," Zanris stopped talking and let out a cruel laugh, the sound echoing around the throne room.

He shook his head once after he had composed himself once more. "I just wish that I could kill him myself, and I know of a few of the other Champions who wish to do the same. But I understand why you want to do it yourself." He shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh yes, I’m going to enjoy his fate, and we all know the fate of a traitor," Sylvanas drawled matter-of-factly as if she was just stating the weather.

"Public execution," Zanris smirked, darkly.

“Indeed, if he wants to die so desperately then I’m going to give him what he wants.” Sylvanas glowered darkly at the door on the opposite end of the room.

"Dar'Khan Drathir betrayed us because he believed that doing so would make him more powerful." Sylvanas scoffed, Drathir had been blind in is own arrogance and hubris, and he had paid the price for it several times. "Saurfang, on the other hand, is angry because I acted without _honor _and because I'm apparently responsible for the deaths of members of the Horde. Deaths who may or may not have been avoidable. But how many loyal Horde warriors has he killed while he freed Baine, while he built his little rebellion? So, it is suddenly alright to kill Horde members, loyal warriors that were only following their orders when you say that you are fighting for them in the name of honor but it isn't when I'm leading them into battle for the sake of survival!” Sylvanas spat out, even as she felt her powers acting up.

Dark mist had begun to form around her again and the armrests of her throne began to crack as she gripped them far too tightly, she quickly lessened her grip, Sylvanas struggled to calm herself. A traitor had ensured her death once before, she wouldn’t allow it to happen a second time.

When she had sufficiently calmed down enough so that the mist had at least had disappeared again, she began to speak once more, "Saurfang betrayed us because he thinks me to be a monster, and even though he is not fully wrong with that assumption, he still chose to betray me. Instead of challenging me like it should have been according to his oh so precious honorable traditions."

“Mak'gora,” Zanris spoke quietly.

“Yes, you can see how much his worthless traditions really mean to him. He falls back on them when it is convenient for him and when it suits him and his goals, just like everyone else does,” she rested her head on one of her hands, “had he challenged me like his traditions demand it, I would have fought him. I would have probably fought him fairly as well, and who knows he may have even defeated me if I had allowed it to happen of course.” They both laughed at that.

The old orc would never stand any kind of chance in a one on one duel against Sylvanas Windrunner. She had the advantage in almost every way. Experience, skills, and physical condition. On top of that, Sylvanas would not fight with honor, when it came down to it. She had not even done so in life. 

The former Ranger General had fought in wars that were necessary for the survival of her people and the safety of those she had sworn to protect. She had fought dirty, she had used the enemy's weaknesses against them, and she had not hesitated to kill in cold blood. While she had not been proud of these moments when she had still been breathing, even the woman who had once been Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner had known since she had been a young girl that those actions were necessary when you were fighting in a war.

“But instead he chose the cowards way out. He surrendered to our enemies, he conspired with the enemies of the Horde against me, he started an uprising against the Horde, with the help of our _sworn_ enemies, he freed a traitor, and then he has the nerve to call me honorless!”

She rubbed her hands over her face, for the first time since Arthas’s death she felt exhausted. She was tired of the pointless arguments the Horde insisted on having with her. She was tired of fighting for her own and most of all for her people's survival. But the real war was only just now beginning. Sometimes in the dead of the night, when she was looking at the stars above Orgrimmar, she wished that there had been a way to unite the Horde and the Alliance without all the bloodshed, to unite them against the much larger threats, but she had learned from experience that it never would have worked out. 

Horde and Alliance would only ever be able to work together against a common enemy. It had been that way since the Third War and it would probably never change. The third opening of the Dark Portal, the Lich King, and the Scourge, the Cataclysm, Garrosh, and the Sha, the Iron Horde, the Legion… again, Azshara and now she could count herself among those… _monsters_. All of those things united the people of the two fractions only temporarily. There would never be a way for permanent peace. Not even when one Faction had finally fallen to the other's sword.

When she had first assumed her role as Warchief, before she had known what she now knew, before she had known about the end of the world, she had briefly plotted to find ways to annihilate the Alliance once and for all. So, that there would finally be peace on Azeroth, peace, and prosperity for the Horde. But she knew now, even if there had been no further existential threat against Azeroth and the Alliance would have been finally destroyed for good, that there would have still been no peace for her or her Forsaken. 

Most members of the Horde had always hated them, her Forsaken would have probably been the Horde’s next enemy regardless of her actions. The living races were a joke, always searching for peace, and yet so willing to rush headfirst into the next war. Blind to the fact that they were the creators of their own suffering. 

How many of her Forsaken had suffered at the hands of the Horde and the Alliance, just because they had been raised against their will? How many despised the living not because they flaunted the gift that her Forsaken had been robbed of, the gift of life, the gift of warmth, breathing, eating and feeling. No, the reason why so many of her Forsaken despise the living is that those hate the undead for their continued existence. They don’t see individuals, they can only see monsters, fragments of the Scourge. How many of her Forsaken thought ‘death to the living’ when they charged into battle just because of that fact? The real number was probably even higher than Sylvanas thought.

She had no illusions that her crusade into the lands of the dead would probably end in her ultimate death and that her Forsaken were prepared to fight until the absolute last, loyal until the end, but she still regretted that she had not been able to give her people a permanent place in this world. While she still feared the endless suffering that could still follow her final death, even though he had promised differently, she also accepted that maybe it was time for herself and the Forsaken to hold their last stand. 

She deeply regretted the fact that even if they managed to win the upcoming war, even then the Forsaken would not be celebrated for what they achieved, her people would wither away into nothingness, a footnote in history. In a few decades, her people would be nothing more than horror stories. 

Sylvanas certainly did not believe in destiny, but perhaps this had been the reason why they were still bound to a cruel existence in this dark world. So that they could fight the war that no one else could, so that they could be the sword that would finally rid Azeroth of the evil that had plagued it and its inhabitants for so long. When one looked back on it, every catastrophe could be traced back to the influence of the Old Gods.

Sargeras' corruption, the Legion, the Lich King, Deathwing, the Sha, Azshara, and so many, many more. Maybe with them gone, Azeroth would finally find peace once again, it was certainly a nice thought.

Zanris shifted, his movement dragged her back into the present. He had his helmet in his hands and was staring at it thoughtfully. Maybe he imagined that he held the Helm of Domination in his hands instead. They would have to finish _that _argument at some point, but not tonight. They needed someone who could bear the helmet but they currently had just two possible candidates, and both were less than ideal. But considering that the whole idea was madness from, to begin with, nothing was really ideal anymore.

“What about those that won’t accompany us? I don’t think alienating everyone would be good for their… health.” His voice was quiet when he broke the silence. He did not look away from his helmet, and Sylvanas knew that their meeting was drawing to a close, they had both spent far too much time in this room already. There was too much to do, they had not any time to waste.

“I spoke with Lor’themar recently, he has sworn to protect all Forsaken who will not accompany us. The children, the weak, the ones who never learned to fight and the few hundred who stay behind to protect those.”

“He has?” Despite the question, the Deathlord did not sound surprised. 

“Yes, I convinced him, it wasn’t easy but he understands where I’m coming from.”

“I believe that you did not tell him about what we are planning, so what did you even say to convince him?”

"I asked him if he would protect my Forsaken if anything ever happened to me and I could no longer ensure their safety. He knows that neither the Horde nor the Alliance look very fondly upon my people and would gladly see them all gone. But the Blood elves have experienced nearly the same fate as the Forsaken have, and all of them have lost someone to Arthas’s attack. He agreed with me and swore to me that he would protect them as he would any of the Blood elves.”

“That does not surprise me. Lor'themar had always been passionate, even as a young trainee. I can assume that you did not tell him about-”

“No, no one outside of your Knights and the Forsaken know what we have planned.”

“Not even?”

“No… I’m meeting her soon, but…”

“You don’t plan on telling her?” Zanris asked softly, or as softly as he still could.

“No, I just want to say…“ She broke off suddenly.

“Goodbye… You want to say goodbye.” He spoke more softly than he had in years.

“Yes... I did not have the chance to do so last time. Even though she will probably hate me, I have to see her one last time.”

She would never admit it, but the largest regret she still had about her death was that she had never gotten the chance to tell Jaina that she loved her one more time, before Arthas had killed her. 

Zanris looked up from his helmet. “Be careful, my lady. It would do the world no favors if something happened to you now.” 

"Despite the Lord Admiral's considerable power, I won't let myself be led into a trap. Should she try anything I will leave and that will be that. And I'm not going alone, of course, a few of my Rangers are going to be near, at all times."

“Very well, if that has been all, then I need to return to Acherus. There is a lot to be done before the big day.”

"Yes, that is all. Dismissed, Champion."

“Yes, my Lady." He bowed briefly, and at the same time, a dark portal sprang into existence behind him, with a swirl of his long cloak he was gone, the portal snapping shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: First of all, thank you to the many people who bookmarked the story, the people who commented and the people who left a Kudos for me, these things really make my day and help me with my writing.
> 
> Thank you for reading the second chapter. It was not easy to write, because my head wanted to jump to the exiting parts of the story, like all the time, so I had trouble focusing on this one.
> 
> I'm really sorry for the delay but a lot of stuff happened these past two weeks that weren't really easy, it wasn't overall bad, it was just a lot. But as I said it is getting better.
> 
> This chapter is mostly background information for the story and build up, I promise you the next Chapter is where we finally have the meeting between Jaina and Sylvanas. This is where things are going to be picking up, and where I finally reveal what is really going on.
> 
> About the new stuff that happened in 8.2.5 and the Cinematic. Well, I'm really $&%$&%$ pissed. I love the first half of the cinematic because Sylvanas kicked ass and if you did not pick it up from this Chapter, but I hate Saurfang, so I'm really glad that the old bastard is finally dead. I did not really like the ending, especially because Sylvanas should have just killed him directly, she is clearly the far superior fighter. It looked awesome and I had goosebumps but it was typically Blizzard. And with the way things are going they are probably going to kill Sylvanas in the next expansion.
> 
> I debated with myself while I wrote the bulk of this story in the last two days since I saw the cinematic on Wowhead, if I should include this part of canon, and as you could see from the conversation between Zanris and Sylvanas, yes I'm including the Mak'gora, at first I had wanted to leave him alive, but now I'm going to kill him, because I'm just that vindictive.
> 
> So, I don't know if I continue playing if they do really kill her off, their things that are slowly adding up, and these things are slowly pushing me further and further away from the game. I hope that the Sylvaina fandom is not going to die out if this really happens, but oh well, we'll have to see.
> 
> Legion was awesome the story was good and felt really awesome to play. BFA is a drag and Blizzard can't really write morally grey characters, they are either goody-two-shoes or just plain evil. They never managed to do it, and they failed once again. They ruined a perfectly good Banshee that is what they did!
> 
> For the record, I hate what they have done with Calia. I really just don't like her and the idea of light-bound undead is horrible, I mean that is like light-bound void-corrupted. Whatever the developers smoked when they brought Calia back from the dead, as whatever abomination she is now, I hope it was worth it, because it is stupid and I feel cheated.
> 
> So, maybe leave a constructive review down below. Leave a kudos or maybe bookmark the story, that would really make my day.
> 
> Thank you very much, this is ScouterFight and I’m out :D.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: The third chapter is quite long, I spent nearly two weeks on this piece of work.
> 
> And yes, I’m also really angry about what Blizzard/Activision has been doing, but I believe because that this is **free** Fanfiction that continuing my work is still the right thing to do.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy reading chapter 3.
> 
> Update 14.03.2020  
**IMPORTANT!!!!**  
**I rewrote Chapter 1, Chapter 2, and Chapter 3.**

* * *

Jaina appeared without a sound on a sandy beach. It was nearly pitch-black around her, the night had long since fallen and the only reason that the mage was even able to see anything was the bright full moon high above her. The Lord Admiral let out a breath she had not known she had been holding, she was exhausted, both in body and in mind. She had just, minutes ago, left a meeting between the leaders of the Alliance. The meeting had been about the topic that they were fighting about for nearly a month now. How much they should support Saurfang’s rebellion in the coming weeks. With direct interference? Should they just back off some, to let Saurfang and his followers deal with the Warchief and her Loyalists, or should they interfere by helping them directly, or passively?

The entire meeting had been a mess from the start, full of shouting accusations, threats, and all kinds of unkind words at each other, with the Alliance so horrible divided they had been unable to agree on anything. The meeting had ended in a screaming match between Genn and, strangely of all, Aysa Cloudsinger. Jaina had never seen the usually calm and centered Pandaren Monk so mad about anything.

She sighed softly, this horrid conflict ripped everyone apart, families, friends, the Horde, the Alliance and the whole of Azeroth. Instead of attempting to unite, they had divided the world even more. The rage she had felt at the Horde just a few months ago was now nearly completely gone, she just wanted this conflict to end. She was tired of the near-constant fighting, one conflict after the other had plagued the world for decades.

Most of the leaders of the Alliance were beginning to grow desperate, this was, of course, kept a secret from the public eye. But the Alliance was slowly running out of Azerite, soldiers, resources, time, Champions, and worst of all morale. The leaders themselves were hurt, bruised and exhausted, they had not been defeated, not yet, but they were crumbling, on their last leg, and the longer this war went on the worse it would end.

Mekkatorque was still in a coma after their assault on Dazar’Alor; the radio silence between Stormwind and the leaders of the Kaldorei was worrying; the dwarven clans were at the edge of a new civil war; her people were doubting the decision to join the Alliance; the powers of the Ren’dorei were fluctuating something had happened just recently in the Twisting Nether, something that affected them deeply; and the Night elven and Worgen refugees were practically living in the streets or on top of each other in packed emergency shelters.

With more refugees and other poor souls arriving in the city every day, it was stressing everyone out. Most of all Anduin whose own people were outraged that he had allowed so many refugees to enter their City in the first place. And so many more problems kept piling up, some big, some small but all of them kept adding more and more onto the growing pile.

Neither Alleria nor Turalyon had been able to even attend the meeting, both far too busy on various fronts. Turalyon had been unable to leave the Arathi Warfront, for the last few months now. And Alleria had been so deep in the enemy territory for the last two weeks that they hadn’t even been able to update her on current events. Fareeya and Umbric respectively had come in their place.

Shandris Feathermoon had taken to leading the Night elves that had not left with Tyrande. she had been sitting with them at the table so that the Kaldorei still had a voice, what with both of their leaders practically missing for months now.

They had closed the meeting with a short vote. And with one of them withdrawing their vote entirely, it had ended in a tie. Five for the proposition, of helping Saurfang's rebellion directly and five against it.

Anduin, Velen, Aysa, Muradin and herself voting in favor and Genn, Umbric, Fareeya, Falstad and Shandris against it. Moira Thaurissan had decided to withdrawn her vote entirely, because of her conflict with the other two dwarven clans, the stubborn woman had been against agreeing with either of the two on anything. 

But Jaina was secretly glad that the proud dwarven lady had done so because she had a feeling that Moira would have voted against the proposition. And the small Horde Rebellion desperately needed their help if they hoped to stand a chance against Sylvanas's tyranny. Despite the rumors that were circulating around, far fewer Horde warriors had decided to join Saurfang's uprising against Sylvanas than had followed Vol'jin's resistance against Garrosh.

The mage groaned softly, the headache that had been steadily building behind her forehead was quickly growing in its intensity, and she knew that the coming confrontation would not be easy for her. 

The first letter Sylvanas had written her nearly two months ago, had been promptly thrown into the fireplace, unopened. The second one had met a similar fate, as had the third and the following ten letters. After more than a dozen letters had ended in the fireplace, unopened, she had finally had enough. She had opened one, had read it and then had thrown it into the fireplace. 

When more and more letters had arrived with their choice of words growing more and more desperate, she had finally conceded and had answered one of the letters. The only thing Sylvanas had asked her, was to come to this beach. Each letter had asked the same thing, for the two of them to meet at this beach near midnight, until it had eventually turned to near begging. 

Jaina still had no idea why Sylvanas even wanted to see her, or why she had even agreed to this in the first place. But she was here now and Jaina wasn't sure what she even wanted from this meeting. A screaming match, a talking out, a fight, her killing the older woman for her crimes and finally putting an end to the senseless war that was consuming their world? She did not really know it, but she knew that she wanted answers, and she would finally get them, one way or another.

The familiar salty air around her calmed the storm that raged within her, at least a little. This place brought back so many memories. Of beautiful warm summer days long gone. Jaina knew that if she turned around now and took the path that started just a few meters behind her, she would quickly find herself in the ruins of Windrunner village, a formerly beautiful little township. She had loved spending time in Quel’Thalas, with or without Sylvanas. The few times they had visited the elf's childhood home or the village named after her family, were some of the best memories she had.

But now the ruins of the village and the tower would only haunt her, with their many ghosts. She looked at the stars above her and wondered how many places that she had once loved had been reduced to ruins. Capital City, the original Dalaran, the original Silvermoon, Windrunner village, Windrunner spire, Theramore, and so many more places, lost to the wrath of different conflicts.

The waves that lapped softly at the sand, were calm, a soothing sound and a rare occurrence in these troubling times. Especially after Azshara had been defeated and N’Zoth had managed to escape from his prison.

Jaina was already regretting agreeing to this. So much had happened these past few months, events that made it nearly impossible for Jaina to connect the two different versions of Sylvanas. The famous Ranger-General, who had fought as fiercely as she had loved. A woman who had protected her people relentlessly until her last breath was gone. And only the fearsome Banshee Queen of the Forsaken remained. And while she still fought as fiercely as she had done in life, Jaina doubted, despite or even because of the few tender moments they had shared, after Sylvanas's death, that she still could also love like that.

Gone was the gentlewoman who had entertained children, gone was the close friend that had listened attentively to her when she had rambled on about her studies for hours, gone was the passionate lover that had looked at her as if she had hung the sun in the sky and had powered the Sunwell itself, gone was the fearsome protector who knew how hard it was to lose close friends and family to the horrors of war.

Some memories of their time together, Jaina managed to remember fondly, others were just too painful to even try to remember.

"I wasn't sure if you would come," Startled, Jaina whirled around until she faced the Banshee Queen, or at least her back, as Sylvanas had spoken without turning away from watching the waves roll towards the beach until they eventually broke.

The powerful mage wanted to hit herself, she had not even noticed that Sylvanas had already been waiting for her. She focused on the energies surrounding the Warchief and realized that Sylvanas had been careful to mask her presence among the shadows. Jaina could imagine why, an ambush by the Alliance wouldn’t have been too far etched, but neither was one by the Horde. Inwardly berating herself, she cursed as she let her magical senses cover the area around them, she nearly sighed with relief when she noticed that there was no ambush prepared for her, Sylvanas had truly come alone.

Now that Jaina knew that the other woman was there it was hard to ignore her. The Warchief was in her full regalia, hood thrown over her head, her armor, and weapons in clear view as if she was ready to march into the next battle. The mage wondered briefly if Sylvanas had come prepared to fight her. But she dismissed the thought quickly, why would Sylvanas practically beg her to come, over months, just to attack her when she finally agreed to meet with her? No, Jaina doubted that the other woman had any malicious intentions, at least for now.

And the cuts and the damage on her armor proved her train of thought, the Warchief was not here to fight her, not like this. The nearly empty quiver, the cuts and the dents in her armor showed her that the Banshee had apparently only recently been in a fight. Jaina wondered how many innocents she had killed now. It was very hard for her to resist the temptation to impale the Banshee Queen on one of her ice spears, at least not yet, not before she got answers…

"My brother, Windrunner?!" She nearly screamed, Jaina took a step closer towards the other women, as the air around them suddenly grew frigid, frost crept across the ground underneath her boots, but she paid her runaway powers no mind. With Sylvanas’s back towards her, it would be so easy for Jaina to kill her now. One spell and it would be over, but- would she really be able to do that?

Would she truly be able to kill the woman she lov- no! This was not the woman she had once loved. This was a creature that had slaughtered thousands of innocents, had raised hundreds from their graves, her brother included, had tried to use him against her! A monster in the skin of her former lover, her former partner, her almost- fiancé.

Jaina bit back a sob. The time for grief would come later, for now, a familiar red haze settled itself over her eyes, her mind filled with rage, despair and a gasping need for revenge.

"How dare you?! How dare you raise him?! How dare you try to use him against us?! How dare you try to control him to kill me and my family?! How dare you to turn him into another bomb?! After everything?!" She screamed her emotions into the night air, shouting one accusation after the other at the older woman, but Sylvanas did not do so much as flinch at the rage in her voice, "Trying to make him into a sleeper agent. How far have you-"

"Did you really think that if I had planned to use your brother against you that I would have told that fool Bloodhoof anything?" Sylvana's drawling voice interrupted her. Jaina bristled at the arrogance the Warchief displayed.

“What-?” She attempted to speak, but when Sylvanas’s words finally registered in her brain, she stopped cold. Had she heard that correctly? Jaina had expected to hear a lot of things coming from Sylvanas, but this was certainly not one of those things.

“The High Chieftain is naïve to think that I would have trusted him with something delicate as using a sleeper agent to kill you. If I had really wanted to use your brother against you, I certainly wouldn’t have raised him in front of him or others. The fact that I did it in the open as I did, speaks for itself," Sylvanas continued speaking over Jaina’s shocked silence.

“Are you saying that you planned on Baine freeing Derek?” She asked incredulously.

Jaina could not believe what she was hearing. Was it true? Or was it just another trick, a ruse to lure her into a false sense of security? Was it just another lie? But regardless of whether this was just another trick or not, she felt her rage in her heart lessening and her powers beneath her skin calming.

“Of course. I needed a way for the Alliance and the Rebels to start talking, and who better than Jaina Proudmoore, to finally set things in motion?” Sylvanas laughed, it was a mocking sound, but Jaina had the strange intuition that it was not directed at her. Sylvanas shook her head, almost ruefully. “And it went better than I could have ever expected. It was ridiculously easy. I knew that Bloodhoof would not have been able to resist saving the boy, so I told them what I had ‘planned’. And when my Champion came to me, only hours after I raised Derek, to inform me that Baine had approached him, I knew that my gamble had worked perfectly.”

She stored the tidbit of information away, that the Champion who had helped them free Derek, the same one who had been amongst the others storming Azshara's Palace and had helped build up Saurfang's rebellion, had apparently been working for Sylvanas the entire time.

“So, you never wanted to use my brother against me?”

“No, that had never been my intention.”

“Then why did you raise him? Made him into a monster like-”

"Like me?" The woman chuckled darkly, and Jaina winced that had not been what she had intended to say, “That is simple, he was still useful to me. Baine giving himself up afterward was just a bonus, I certainly had not expected him to do so. With him in captivity, I had a way for the Alliance to repay _their debt_. And it worked, I mean your Boy King has been having talks with Saurfang’s little uprising.”

“You raised my brother, to use him as a bait?!” The fact that Sylvanas wanted to get Saurfang’s rebellion and the Alliance to start talking did not go over her head, but the rage that boiled within her, over her brother’s fate, was too hot to ignore.

“It reunited you with him, did it not?”

She stammered, the emotions in her far too conflicting for her to form a coherent sentence, “I-, that-, urgh! That’s not the point!” She finally managed to ground out between clenched teeth.

“Then what is the point?”

“You raised him against his will!” Jaina snarled.

“What makes you think I did it against his will?”

"Well, you certainly could not have asked him."

“Shows how much you humans really know about us,” The Banshee muttered.

“What-” She attempted to ask, but the older woman just continued.

“It is almost impossible to raise someone against their will, at least the way I do it. No Fors-”

Jaina interrupted her mid-sentence. "If it is so impossible then how did Arthas, raise thousands of people?"

"I said the way I do it. I raise sentient people, he raised mostly mindless slaves. And he had Frostmourne didn't he? I guarantee you Jaina, that I and most people who fell to the Scourge and later regained their mind at least, were definitely raised against their will. As I was saying, no Forsaken that has been revived by either me or my Val'kyr has been raised against their will."

Jaina scoffed, “And how would you know that?” 

She was feeling skeptical, Derek had told her what the Banshee had done and had planned for him. What reason did he have to lie to her? But before she could ponder on the question, Sylvanas’s voice brought her attention back to the matter at hand.

“The ritual which we use is a very simple form, but much more humane than how the bastard and his cursed blade ripped us away from our deserved rest. And I don’t allow it to be performed without explicit permission.”

“Explain.”

“The act of raising somebody is basically just the act of reuniting the souls with the body. Everything else, the emotions, the thoughts, the personality, in one word, everything that makes the Person who they are follows. When _Arthas_,” Sylvanas’s voice deepened into a near growl, “killed and raised me and all the countless others who were forced to obey him, he essentially ripped our souls into pieces. Because of this we, or the part of our souls that had been allowed to return into our bodies, was just a small fragment of who we really were. This allowed him to bind us to his absolute will, leaving us with nearly no way of fighting back. There was nothing we could have done against it, he chose how much free will his _slaves_ got, by choosing how much of our souls returned to our bodies.”

Jaina winced at the repeated mention of Arthas. That man was still a wound on her consciousness, Sylvana's suffering had been at part her fault. She and the former Ranger General had never made their relationship an official affair but they also never had tried to hide it. Arthas had always been a jealous young man, and when he had learned of her relationship with the elf, he had not been happy. Even though they had already gone separate ways, months before Jaina had even met Sylvanas. The Lord Admiral had always known that Arthas, must have made his displeasure known when he had first enslaved Sylvanas’s spirit.

“For example, the Mindless Dead, that still roam around have only the smallest amount of souls back in their bodies, giving them just barely basic functionality like walking, running and in most cases basic fighting. But no higher ability like thinking, speaking, or similar. And because nobody has access to the other part, the larger part of their soul they just wander around aimlessly.”

“Does this story have a point?” Jaina interrupted.

While this was certainly interesting, Jaina was simply not in a mood for a lesson. Sylvanas let out an annoyed if not stifled, groan when Jaina interrupted her.

“Yes, you have to understand how we Undead really work. Your brother underwent the same treatment I gave all the other Forsaken and they are all free, none of them is bound to my will or any others. They are their own masters and as long as I still stand no Forsaken will ever be enslaved again.”

“That is nice and all, but how do I know if I can even trust you?”

Sylvanas’s voice softened somewhat, “You really can’t and you shouldn’t, but if our shared history means anything to you…”

“Don-, don’t go there…” Jaina tried to hide the tremor in her voice, but from the brief look the Banshee gave her over her shoulder she knew she had failed. 

Sylvanas turned back around to watch the waves once more, her voice regained that impassive tone, "Very well, when Arthas's control over us shattered, the rest of our souls did not return to us, only the connection between the soul still fragment in our body, and the part of our souls which were bound to the cursed rune blade, was severed. Many of the freed undead lost their minds entirely, their souls far too small to function as a free being. They went insane and lost the last shreds of their personality, of their humanity. They become what we call the Mindless Dead."

“That’s a horrible fate…” Jaina whispered, her own memories flooded back to her, how many undead had she killed during her attempts to bring as many as she could to the boats? How many of those had been killed by her, just because she had thought them to be Scourge when in reality, they had just become insane after their shackles had been broken. How many _innocents_ had she killed during those days?

"Yes, it is and it was not easy to watch them lose themselves completely. Some of the more clear-headed proto-forsaken and I had to personally cut many of them down. They were simply far too dangerous to leave alive."

Jaina didn’t want to think about these days anymore, they still hurt, almost as much as Theramore did, “The ritual…” she brought the conversation back on track.

Sylvanas's voice softened somewhat when she heard the tremor's in Jaina's voice, and despite herself, the Lord Admiral was thankful for Sylvanas's efforts, “Yes when my Val'kyrs or I in some cases raise someone we first interact with the soul before we reunite it with its body. It is not a typical conversation like you and I have, it's an exchange of the soul's purest form, no lies, no hidden secrets. If the soul blocks the attempted ritual, it will be stopped immediately, and the soul returns to whatever afterlife it had been summoned from. As long as the soul does not block this the rest of the ritual can proceed.

"Are you saying that our souls are an active part of us?" Despite her confused feelings about all of this, Sylvanas, her story, the ritual, the Forsaken in general, she could not deny her curiosity any longer.

"Yes and no. Our souls have no mind, no personality of their own, they are neither good nor bad. And yet the soul is essentially everything we have ever experienced. The soul grows with us, it grows stronger and bigger, but it also becomes scarred and scared, by our experiences. We certainly have no control over it. but…" Sylvanas trailed off, lost in thought for a brief moment, Jaina recognized the silence for what it was, Sylvanas was struggling about deciding on something.

“What is it?”

“Nothing it’s not important.” Jaina saw Sylvanas shaking her head and her ears twitching, something about this turn in their conversation troubled the Banshee Queen, “Now during the second part of the ritual another exchange happens, this time between the one who is doing the raising, normally that means one of my Val’kyr or myself, and the person who is going to be raised. It’s a short conversation that allows us to ask the person if it wants to be truly raised, as the soul only blocks the attempt if the act of the raising goes against every belief the person stood for in life. There is only one, in over thirty cases where the soul itself blocks the ritual, but twenty-five in thirty attempts are blocked during the second part. The real difference between my way of raising a Forsaken and the way Arthas raised his slaves, is the fact that during the initial process of putting the soul back into the body, the whole soul is reunited with the person's body, meanwhile, _Arthas_ and the Scourge were fond of only-”

“Putting a small _fragment_ of a soul into the body, allowing the masters to control their undead slaves.” Jaina finished.

“Exactly.” Sylvanas’s voice sounded approving, and Jaina flushed briefly, the older woman had sounded similar when a much younger Jaina had tried to explain something to former Ranger-General that she had learned.

"So, there is really no possibility for you to control the Forsaken?" There was so much that they didn't know yet about the undead and it baffled Jaina that she had never bothered to ask, during the years after she and Sylvanas had been reunited, Jaina had always tried to avoid such question as she had feared that it would upset her partner. She now began to think about the possibility that it had been her own fear and caution over the subject that had prevented her from asking Sylvanas those questions. Maybe things would have been different if she had gathered the courage to just ask the older woman.

"Not like this no, when they are raised the connection to me and my Val'kyr is broken and they are free to do as they wish. I don't control them any more than any other ruler controls its subjects. No dark necromantic magic. I don't have any more control over them, than the oath that they swear and the loyalty that they feel that they owe me.”

“When I raised your brother, I was the one who spoke with him, not one of my Val’kyr. I wanted to deal with this personally, I owed him that much at least. I had a very long talk with Derek about who I am, what I did, about the world, what I knew about you and the rest of your family, I told him the recent history, I gave him the option to ask any question and promised to answer them truthfully. And finally, after he was done, I told him why I made the decision to raise-"

“And you tell me now that my brother knew all along about this and still went along with it?” Despite all she had just learned, Jaina still didn't want to believe that her brother had lied to her, partially because she just didn't understand why he would have done so. Did he fear that they would reject him if he had confessed that he hadn't been raised against his will?

“Yes.” Sylvanas's voice was sharp again as if bracing herself for Jaina's rejection.

But the mage didn’t really register that fact, her troubled thoughts distracted her from the present. “I don’t believe you…”

Between one second and the next Sylvanas's voice had returned to its icy state. "Believe what you will, but I could never lie to you, not about this. I could never be so cruel."

“Your actions beg to differ.” That finally gathered a reaction from the stoic Queen. Sylvanas turned slowly around to face her. Her face was closed off, a mask of ice and disinterest but Jaina still knew her quirks, she was hiding something and was clearly struggling to do so.

Sylvanas began to pace instead of speaking immediately, another thing that hinted for Jaina that something was amiss, Sylvanas only ever paced when something was troubling her, on a personal level. When she finally did, she sounded irritated and angry. "My actions? What do you want me to say? That I enjoy every second of this war? That I enjoyed watching Teldrassil burn? That I enjoyed losing my home for the third time and was once again powerless to stop it? What do you want me to say?!”

Jaina said nothing, while Sylvanas's continued pacing angrily in front of her because she did not know what to say. If she was honest with herself then she did not really know what she wanted to hear from Sylvanas either. But Jaina was still angry and there were so many open questions, so many things that she did not understand. 

Sylvana's behavior had been particularly strange from the beginning of this war. While yes, she had obviously changed after her death, the behavior from the handful of years was nearly the complete opposite from the stoic personality Sylvanas had possessed before _and_ after her death. 

Once carefully chosen battles and cold orders, were now hastily, improvised battleplans and emotional spur of the moment decisions. Neither of these sounded much like the Ranger-General nor the Banshee Queen. This entire war seemed… wrong, as if the destruction of the Alliance was not her end goal. But then what was her goal? What did she want to achieve with all of this? Was there more than what met the eye?

“Why did you burn down Teldrassil?” She asked instead of voicing her thoughts out loud, she figured that outright confronting her with her thoughts would not end well, but maybe she could filter the answer out of her.

“Because it was necessary.” Sylvanas had stopped pacing and had her back turned towards Jaina once again, she crossed her arms in front of her chest, as she gazed towards the horizon. Jaina noticed that her ears were nearly flat against her head.

“How could it have been necessary? Slaughtering thousands and robbing the survivors of their home! How could that have been worth it? And what does this all even bring you?”

“All I want is for the Horde and the Alliance to unite under one banner.”

Jaina laughed humorlessly but stopped when she realized that Sylvanas was serious.

“You are serious? Then why start this war in the first place?”

“I started this war? Who told you that? Was it the Boy-King? No, one my sisters perhaps? I know that you are close to Little Moon. But no, it wasn’t them either. Let me think…” She waved her right hand around, dismissively as she spoke.

“Stop mocking me.” The Lord Admiral growled at her.

"Ah, yes, of course, it was probably the Beast-King. What did the old wolf tell you?"

When Jaina stayed silent, Sylvanas's voice turned even smugger, but something else echoed through her voice, something that Jaina could not identify.

“Or is it that nobody told you? Let me guess, you just came to the conclusion on your own.”

Jaina just glared at her, but inwardly she suddenly understood what she had heard, it was hurt. Sylvanas was hurting about something Jaina had said or done.

"That is disappointing, Jaina you know me better than that. I don't start wars…" Sylvanas paused speaking, she smirked at her over her shoulder, the glow in her eyes becoming brighter. "I finish them!" Jaina tried to dismiss her earlier thought, she must have imagined it, after all, there was no way that the Banshee Queen could be hurt by something Jaina had done.

"It appears that I don't know you at all anymore! And how could I, you are a ruthless murderer! You slaughtered hundreds of innocents and children! Children! The Sylvanas I knew would have never-"

"I was always a ruthless killer." Sylvanas interrupted her matter-of-factly as she spun around sharply, nearly causing Jaina to take a step back.

The Lord Admiral gaped at her, but the Banshee wasn't done yet, she stalked slowly towards her until only barely a meter separated them. With every word that left her lips, she managed to sound even angrier than before. "Do you think that I never killed innocents or even children during my people's wars against the Amani trolls, long before you were even born? Do you think that I only ever killed _warriors_, those who were able to lift a blade and fight back? Do you think that I never stabbed someone in the back when the opportunity arose? Do you think that I never fought dirty? That I never relished in the rush that comes with deciding who dies and who lives? Do you really think that I never enjoyed the power my position gave me?”

“The Sylvanas I knew would have never burned down Teldrassil!” Jaina pushed back, she wouldn’t let herself be intimidated.

“You have no idea what happened at Darkshore because you weren’t there! Just like you weren’t there for the war we fought against the Legion! We needed you, the world needed you, I needed you! But you weren’t there. And now you return and speak as if you know anything!”

“I know enough.” Jaina raised her chin, in the face of Sylvanas’s accusations. Sylvanas was not entirely wrong, but she would not give her the satisfaction.

“Spare me! I saw your face in the Throne Room! You did not know about Teldrassil beforehand, you just assumed that you were doing the right thing, by attacking the Horde.”

“It was the right thing to do. You attacked the Kaldorei, burned Teldrassil, hundreds of innocents died on your orders!”

“But you did not know that at the time. And it was during a war that was started by the Alliance. What was I supposed to do? Nothing?” Sylvanas asked her.

But the undead did not give her any time to answer before she continued, her voice softening and this time the hurt echoed clearly through her voice, “But it does not matter anyway, you are just like all the others. You believe yourself to be in the right and nothing that I say would ever change your mind. After all, _I_ am the monster, so naturally, I have to be wrong."

“What do you have really planned? I don’t believe that you have done all this just to unite both Factions against you.”

The face of the Warchief hardened, and Jaina knew that she would not get an answer from Sylvanas, not like this, “I don’t think that I owe you any more answers, Lord Admiral.” 

Jaina didn’t back down, years ago she may have, but now being as jaded and scarred as she was, she would not be intimidated by Sylvanas. “You owe me a lot of things. Giving me some answers is the least you could do.” 

Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed and darkened. The Banshee stepped slowly closer to her, threateningly, until they were practically nose to nose. Jaina had to look up slightly to look the Warchief in the eyes. She was startled when she saw the raw emotions in them, anger, fury, and… was that regret? Jaina mentally shook her head. No, she had to have imagined it.

“I owe you nothing.” Sylvanas hissed, again her eyes flared with anger.

But this time Jaina was able to see it clearly, there was something more in those eyes than just wrath or anger. This time she was sure that she had not imagined it, the emotions in Sylvanas’s eyes were laid as bare as they had been in life. Sylvanas’s, formerly glowing blue and now red, eyes had always been expressive. They had been like an open book to Jaina, and not even death had changed that. She had a feeling that was the reason why the older woman had avoided looking at her nearly the entire time they were talking.

And this unsettled Jaina more than the anger or the hurt, she tried to hide her nervousness but she also knew that she would stand no chance against Sylvanas if it came to a fight, with the Banshee standing this close to her. Because why would the Banshee feel something like regret? She took a few steps back and silently cursed her own obvious weakness, Sylvanas only chuckled darkly.

Jaina swallowed harshly, “Then why have you asked me to come here? The letters you wrote sounded as if you were begging for me to come and now you stand here. What did you hope to accomplish with this?”

Sylvanas said nothing, her eyes were focused on Jaina’s face but the look in them, it seemed as if the Warchief was seemingly far away, lost in her own thoughts. Jaina swallowed she had never seen her like this, not even when she had been alive. Sylvanas Windrunner had always been grounded in reality, her thoughts had never strayed so far away from her that it was obvious, always standing at attention and observing her surroundings, habits formed from a long military life.

Then Sylvanas focused back on Jaina's face. And for a brief second, it seemed as if the Warchief would really open up to her, but the cold mask appeared again and Jaina cursed inwardly.

“Please Sylvanas, you have changed so much these past few years, and I’m not talking how you changed after your death. I love you but I can’t go on like this anymore.” 

But Sylvanas just remained silent and when her eyes strayed once more away from her, she snapped.

“Fuck you Sylvanas Windrunner! I love you…, you…, you… absolute insufferable _ass_! I love you so fucking much and now you don’t even have the spine to look me in the eyes!”

And yet, Sylvanas still would not look at her, her head was bowed and her eyes closed. Jaina took a few steps closer towards the taller woman, carefully taking the former Ranger-General’s right hand between hers.

“I love you, Sylvanas Windrunner, and nothing will ever change that. But so much has happened and there are things I probably won’t ever be able to forgive you for, but please if there is anything, anything at all that you can tell me, about why you have done all this, then please tell me. I can't do this anymore if you have done all this just for the sake of causing chaos or bringing as much death as you can then please tell me. This is killing me, my love for you and my disgust at your actions are tearing me apart. Please Sylvanas," She whispered the last part, desperation and a hint of panic clear in her voice.

“Then why don’t you just go…” Jaina was not fooled by Sylvanas’s tough act. The elf tried to look strong and her voice was still cold and seemingly unfeeling, but her eyes, oh her eyes screamed for her to stay, they were almost desperate, for her to understand. But what was Jaina supposed to understand?

Jaina’s heart ached for the woman in front of her, the mask that had steadily been cracking over the course of their conversation had now fully broken and Jaina for the first time in a very long time was able to look not just at the Warchief of the Horde, not at the Banshee Queen, and not even at the Ranger-General—no she was looking in the eyes of her former lover, the woman that had at one point meant everything to her. 

And it was the fact that Sylvanas, for the first time in a very long time, looked once more like the woman Jaina had met all those years ago and had sequentially fallen in love with, that Jaina knew that she would not, could not, despite her words, leave her like that. Because the woman in front of her needed something from her, she needed Jaina's help, but she either did not know how to ask, considering their still enemy status, or she was reluctant for another reason.

_The_ Sylvanas Windrunner, the Warchief and the Banshee Queen the world knew, while not warm or cuddly was certainly not a psychopath who killed aimlessly and carelessly. There had to be a deeper meaning behind all of this, the Lord Admiral was sure of it. Jaina knew that the older woman was hiding something from her, something big. Something that frightened her, it made the Banshee skittish every time Jaina tried to steer their conversation into that direction. But what could scare someone like Sylvanas, a woman who had stared death countless of times into the eyes and had refused to flinch?

“No, I won’t leave! I want to know what really drove you to do what you did. Teldrassil, Lordaeron, my brother, everything! You are not an idiot. You would have never done what you did if you thought that you would not get something out of it. Your experience in warfare is too great for that. So, what is your end goal, what is really going on? Please, Sylvanas,” Jaina pleaded once more.

Sylvanas was silent for so long, with her head bowed deeply, that Jaina was just about to accept that she would never get an answer, when the older woman finally, finally opened her mouth, “We are on the brink of a war that the world will not be able to win.” Her voice was so quiet that Jaina nearly missed what she had said.

“What war are you talking about?” She squeezed the hand between hers in encouragement.

“A war against the Old Gods, a war the world has only seen once before. I have spent the last handful of years figuring out a way to prevent the Old Gods from rising again.”

“The Old Gods, as in multiple? How can that be?”

"It is not so easy to kill an Old God; even the Titans failed when they attempted to kill Y'Shaarj. The Old Gods were smarter, they had back-up plans and contingencies set in place, should they ever be defeated."

“Go on.”

“They-, I don’t know how to explain it, but the Old Gods managed to split themselves into two parts, a part that remained here on Azeroth and another that resides somewhere else.”

“And where is that?”

“A place called the Shadowlands.”

Her brows furrowed, beings that feared death, had fled into the Shadowlands? “The afterlife?”

"Basically yes, but in reality, the Shadowlands are so much more than just the place where deceased souls go."

“So C’Thun, Yogg-Saron, and Y’Shaarj aren’t dead?”

“No, only the parts that stayed on Azeroth have been killed, the rest, the more powerful part was hidden safely in the Shadowlands.”

“So, this conflict that you spoke of, is the return of the four Old Gods?”

“Yes, I have spent the last few years trying to find a way to stop them. And now I’m nearly ready to set my plan into action. Even if it is not a perfect plan, we are slowly running out of time, with N’Zoth freed now, it won’t be long until the other three are going to make their move as well.

“How much longer until-“ She broke off, the thought of facing N’Zoth had been terrifying enough, but all four, neither Alliance nor Horde would stand any chance against such a threat, not before their war and certainly not now.

“A few months at most.”

“So, all this time you have been searching for a way to stop them from coming back to Azeroth?”

“Not directly…”

“What do you mean?”

“I found a way to finally kill them once and for all.”

With everything Sylvanas revealed just more questions popped up in Jaina’s head, this was so much worse than the Lord Admiral had expected, so, so much worse. And the Alliance didn’t know about any of this. “Do the other Horde leaders know about any of this?” 

“No.”

“And how do you hope to defeat them without an army?”

“Oh, believe me, little mage, I have an army." Some confidence returned to Sylvanas’s voice when the fallen elf noticed that Jaina was still there, still listening.

Jaina narrowed her eyes at the ‘little’ comment, “What do you mean?”

“I was not idle these last few years.”

"You mean…" Jaina trailed off, unsure if taking the words she wanted to say, into her mouth would make them more real.

“Yes,” The simple answer scarred the mage more than any detailed explanation could have.

"Why?" To her own surprise, she did not sound as disgusted by the concept as she had imagined she would be, but still, how many gravesites had Sylvanas robbed? How many former heroes were now following her? How big was her army really? But before she could voice any of these questions Sylvanas threw her once again for a loop.

“Because my Forsaken are the only ones who will be able to stop them.”

“You still haven’t told me what you are really planning. And what do you mean by that now? Stop being so cryptic.”

Sylvanas chuckled softly and a teasing smirk crept upon her still handsome features, “You know I try not to be, and yet it is such fun to rile you up, it has always been. But maybe it would be better if you don’t learn more about my plan than you already know.”

“Sylvanas! Please don’t try to shut me out-“

“I’m not shutting you out,” the Banshee assured her, she sighed, “there is just no need for you to know what I have planned because you won’t be able to help me anyway.”

"What are you talking about, of course, I'm going to help you."

Sylvanas shook her head, if she had still been alive, Jaina would have said that the movement almost seemed fond. "I didn't mean it like that, but you can't help me with this."

“Why not?”

“Because where I’m going you won’t be able to follow me.”

Jaina’s eyes widened at the grave statement. Sylvanas nodded softly when understanding dawned in her cold blue eyes. The thought filled her with dread, and she felt the blood in her veins freeze, there was a reason why the lands of the dead were inaccessible for the people who resided in the lands of the living.

“You mean…?”

“Yes, my army and I are going to enter the Shadowlands. We are the only ones who can hunt the Old Gods down. They thought themselves clever when they fled into the realms of the dead, as they know that the living can’t go there. But out of their fear of the unknown stemmed ignorance. They never thought that something like undead would be possible. Something that is dead and yet not really.”

“So, I can’t really help you?”

“No, the Shadowlands are no place for the living. You would either wither away within minutes and die because as a living being you do not belong there, or you would go mad from the exposure to four Old Gods. Only the Undead are immune to their influence.”

“And how do you even plan to enter the Shadowlands? Last I checked it is nearly impossible for us to cross into the realm beyond.”

“The barrier between the world of the dead and ours has been significantly weakened and there is an artifact which is going to allow us to cross safely through the barrier. The two planes exist on the same level, they exist at the same time parallel to each other, which makes the transfer of Souls easier for the Rulers of Death-“

“You mentioned them already once, who are those ‘Rulers of Death’?”

“All beings who guide or control the souls of the dead. Helya, Bwonsamdi, and many more. And as for why, the barrier has been weakened, the Old God’s practically destroyed this barrier between the lands of the dead and our world when they went into hiding. They and their servants created five powerful Seals, these Seals strengthened the barrier between the two worlds again, so that their actions would stay hidden from the eyes of the Titans, and it worked. The Titans believed the three Old Gods Yogg-Saron, C'Thun, and N'Zoth to be permanently sealed away, and Y’Shaarj to be dead when they left Azeroth.”

Jaina’s eyes widened when she connected the dots, “So, the burning of Teldrassil…”

Sylvanas nodded. “Yes, one of the Seals was hidden in the place where Teldrassil stood. When it was planted the roots of the World Tree grew around the Seal. When I planned the assault on Darkshore, I had originally wanted to take the World Tree, the Kaldorei and the Worgen as hostages, so that I would have time to search for the Seal. While I used them and the World Tree as leverage. But at that point, I already knew that I would never find the blasted thing in time, even though I tried to convince myself otherwise. On top of that, Saurfang also failed to kill Stormrage, and I knew that I would never be able to hold the tree without heavy resistance, especially with the druid still alive. And at worst I would have lost the Seal if the Alliance managed to take Teldrassil back before I managed to destroy it. So, as a last resort, I gave the order to burn it. I knew that it was a horrible decision but I had no other opportunity. I simply couldn’t risk it.”

“But what about the people? Could you not have at least given them enough time to get to safety?”

Sylvanas shook her head even as her ears went flat against her skull. “It would have changed nothing. You know how proud the Kaldorei are, they would have never abandoned their home no matter what I threaten them with, and the Worgen would have stayed just to spite me in some twisted sense of logic.”

Despite herself, Jaina knew that Sylvanas was probably right. The proud Kaldorei would have never given up their home willingly. Just like the equally proud Quel’dorei once refused to do, even in the face of certain death and other much more unspeakable horrors.

"They would have done everything in their power to stop you.”

“Yes, and I just couldn’t risk it, not with the Seal so close to being in my grasp. I admit that I regret that I made that decision and the people that died because of it, but I also know that I would choose to make the same choice once again if it came down to it. Because this was the only way of ensuring that I would be able to proceed with my plans. I knew that I would most likely never get such an opportunity again.”

“I don’t like it,” Jaina said simply.

“I don’t like it either, but that is just the way it is. Believe me, I tried to find another way. But after Saurfang had refused to kill Stormrage I knew that my time was already running out, it would have been just a matter of days until the Alliance would have tried a counter-attack, and the risk of not being able to destroy the Seal was just too great." 

“What about the other Seals, have you already destroyed them?”

“Two were already destroyed during the Shattering. The third I destroyed during my Campaign in Stormheim. And you witnessed the destruction of the fifth Seal.”

“In Azshara’s palace, after we defeated her?”

“Yes, that was the fifth Seal. Four of the five Seals were built around the image of each of the Old Gods, this was why the Seal looked like it did. A resemblance to the Old God, N’Zoth.”

“And the fifth?”

“Sadly, I don’t know, that was one of the seals destroyed during the Cataclysm.”

“I suppose it does not really matter. But do you have any idea about what happened to Azshara after we defeated her?”

“I’m not sure, but from what my Champions reported I believe that N’Zoth has taken her to him.”

Jaina shuddered at the thought, Azshara had failed, after all, she could not imagine that the Old God would grant mercy to the fallen Sea Queen. She still remembered Azshara's horrified face when the monster had dragged her into the depths, she did not envy her. Jaina did not wish such a fate upon her worst enemy, but maybe that was not really true, she knew that in the back of her mind she considered that Garrosh would have deserved it.

“Where is his physical part that resides on Azeroth? I saw him grip her and drag the Naga Queen into the depths, but I don’t know where he could have gone. And how do you plan on defeating him in the Shadowlands if a part of him still exists on Azeroth, or do you plan on defeating him here first?”

“No, like you I don’t know where he is, and it would take far too long to search for him. While the Old Gods are masterminds and incredibly manipulative, whispering in your ear when you are at your weakest and take full advantage of your hesitation, they are also horrible arrogant. And if they fear one thing, it’s death. I believe that when we fight him and we come close to killing him then he is going to use the part that resides here on Azeroth, to find a way to prevent his demise, but also ultimately sealing his fate.”

“And if he won’t?”

“Then it should be easy to defeat him here, on Azeroth. When the greater part that resides in the Shadowlands is gone.”

Jaina sighed, “So the rest of this conflict was just a way for the Alliance and the Horde to unite against you?”

“Partially, I knew that most of the Horde leaders always disliked me. Gallywix can be bought. I could never expect any loyalty from him, as long as someone is willing to be enough, he would do almost anything. Baine is a weak-hearted fool who always distrusted me, and when I ordered Teldrassil burned I lost all his _respect_. Saurfang you already know about, he has a weak definition of honor to which he clings, but only as long as it benefits him. The Darkspear still have no real new leader, but Rokhan follows in Vol’Jin’s footsteps, he would have resisted if he felt that it would be the right thing to do. Lor’themar is loyal, but he is not as radically inclined against the Alliance as he perhaps should be, and with me imprisoning Baine, I managed to turn him away from me. Firepaw believes in action above inaction, but he and his Pandaren did not agree to this war in the first place. The leaders of our new allies are more divided as the original leaders, but I knew that it would not matter. Saurfang's rebellion already succeeded in part, the Horde is beginning to crumble slowly, it is just a matter of time until it comes to a head, and I believe that the next Warchief is going to be much more amicable towards the Alliance than I am."

"But why? If you already planned to go to the Shadowlands, why prolong this war and not just unite the Fractions from the beginning?"

“The Kaldorei would have never given up their tree and would have never allowed me to search for the Seal there. They most likely would not have even believed me. And do you really think that Greymane of all people would have believed anything I had to say? No, he would have damned this world before he would admit that I’m right. And his whispers reach your High King far too easily. I would have found no support with the Alliance, and the Horde alone won’t be strong on its own, should I fall.”

Jaina now realized what Sylvanas had planned. “You wanted the united forces of the Alliance and Horde to act as a backup plan.”

“Exactly, should we fail to defeat all four Old God’s within the Shadowlands then I wanted the Alliance and the Horde to stand united.”

“But so many died! Was this all for nothing?”

“They did not die for nothing, never squander the sacrifice of a soldier. There had to be an initiative behind all this so that the Horde and Alliance are really going to be able to work together in the long run. They now believe that they owe it to those who died, to try to work together for a better future.”

“There had to be another way,” Jaina argued.

“There is always another way. But when Vol’Jin named me Warchief it was nearly too late for me to really act. There was so much I had to consider, the Legion, my army, the Shadowlands, the Seals, the relationship between Horde and Alliance, a way to enter the Shadowlands, and so much more. I had originally hoped to unite the Horde and Alliance already during our war against the Demons, but when I realized that one of the Seals was hidden beneath Teldrassil I knew that peace between our Fractions would not have been possible. On top of that came the actions of the Alliance during the earlier days of the conflict. And you have seen how well the Horde and the Alliance managed to work together against a greater threat. So, I gave them one, as the Old Gods would have not risen until it was too late to stop them, I knew that so I made myself into a villain they all could hate for their own reasons. But I also understand that as soon as the greater threat is vanquished the bonds that had been built between the two Fractions would begin to crumble nearly instantly. That is the way of cycle our world is trapped in. I just needed to find a way to break it.”

“So, you just wanted to give them a reason to work together towards peace? By turning yourself into a monster?”

Sylvanas only nodded, everything that had needed to be said about it, had already been spoken. The two lovers were silent for a while, just standing close together, their hands clasped between them and their foreheads touching. Jaina had missed these small moments during the last three years, and even before Theramore had such moments been a rarity. 

There had to be a way for Jaina to help, and while she could do nothing while she was still alive, there was definitely something that could be done about that-

“Kill me.” It took Jaina a few seconds to realize that she had spoken her thoughts out loud, she opened her eyes and saw that Sylvanas looked confused and even horrified by her words. 

"Are you mad?" Jaina would have laughed had the situation not been so dire, the face the Warchief made was ridiculous, wide eyes, an even paler skin tone than usual, and a totally petrified expression.

“No, maybe… I don’t know. But if you kill me and then raise me, I-” Jaina stammered, she didn't even know what she really wanted to say, but she knew that she would not leave Sylvanas alone to face a seemingly unbeatable enemy, not again.

“I’m not killing you!” Sylvanas argued outraged at the mere suggestion.

“But then I can help you, you are right I can’t do anything right now to help you. But if I’m undead then I can go with you.”

“I’m not killing you, just so that I can raise you!” Sylvanas argued hotly.

“You were right. I abandoned the world for nearly three years because I was angry. Angry at a man that is long since dead. I can’t blame everyone in the Horde for Theramore just like I can't blame everyone in the Alliance for the actions of a few, regardless of how horrible they were. But I already abandoned you once to face an all-powerful enemy alone, and I have lived with the guilt since then-" 

Jaina tried to explain her reasoning but the older woman interrupted her. “I never blamed you for that, I was the one who sent you away in the first place!”

"I know!" She paused, when she saw Sylvanas withdraw slightly, to gather herself and began with a calmer tone anew, "I know that... and that's why I'm not allowing you to do it again."

"Jaina, please what you are asking is madness. You would throw your life away, your people, your friends, your family. You would throw all that away just so that you could follow me into hell?”

“Yes.”

“What about your future?”

Jaina scoffed at Sylvanas’s weak attempt, “What future are we even talking about? I have been involved in countless bloody conflicts since the third war began. Peace and rest are things that have grown foreign to me. And no future is worth living for, without you by my side.”

"I thought you were still angry at me?"

“I am, incredibly so, but above all else I still love you. And while I don’t think that I will ever be able to forgive you for the countless dead, and the thousands that suffered because of you, I understand why you have done it.”

Sylvanas’s shoulders dropped, and Jaina nearly thought that she had won, but Sylvanas would not give up so easily. “I see that I won’t be able to convince you, but I also won’t raise you and I most certainly won’t kill you. I can’ believe that you are asking that of me. You know how I feel about this curse-”

“And you are asking me to do nothing, while you once again march towards your doom! I can’t watch you walk away from me again, knowing that you probably won’t be coming back! I can’t wait here and do nothing while I know that you are risking everything to do the right thing.”

“Jaina, please see reason, you do not want to be undead, this life-, this curse, this existence is not worth it…”

Jaina suddenly understood why Sylvanas had been so desperate in her letters. For Sylvanas this, this entire meeting between them was her way of saying goodbye. She was not planning on coming back from this. Jaina's heart ached with the realization and the recognition. Sylvanas had acted similarly before the fall of Silvermoon, the last few moments they had shared before Sylvanas had sent her away had felt strange to the young mage, Sylvanas had behaved strangely, she had refused to look Jaina in the eyes and had constantly attempted to touch her just to draw away at the last possible second.

“That’s exactly what you are planning.”

“What do you mean?” 

“You are not planning on coming back. You did everything to secure a future for this world but not for you.”

"Jaina, I'm tired I-, I can't go on like this, my death was years ago, I think it's time that I finally move on. I'm exhausted and weary, fighting one war after the other and for what? Just to see another day that we can once again spend fighting a new enemy or ourselves again. No, I can't do this anymore."

"But what about what awaits you afterward?”

"If everything is going to work out as I planned it then maybe my people won't have to suffer eternal damnation for a crime they did not commit."

“What do you mean?”

Sylvanas shook her head, “Nothing-“

“Sylvanas.”

“No, Jaina that is one thing I really can’t tell you about.”

“It’s nothing bad, is it?” Jaina purposely softened her voice, she knew when to withdraw with Sylvanas, there were some points that the woman would not cross, and she sounded dangerously close to such point.

"No, if everything works out as intended then it is a very good thing."

Now it was Jaina’s turn to turn her back towards the other woman, she let go of her hands and stepped a few meters away from Sylvanas, who winced when the contact between them broke, Jaina had to process this. It was just too much, everything had practically been a lie, all those deaths, the bloodshed, everything had just been part of Sylvanas’s plan to, ironically, save them all.

So many deaths, so many people, both civilians and fighters injured, thousands without a place to call home, and all of that for the greater good. She wanted to scoff, how could she have been so foolish, Sylvanas was far too experienced and shrewd to just start a war like the Fourth War, without a good reason. And it seemed that the imminent destruction of their world was a good enough reason for Sylvanas to lead such a horrible war. Jaina believed Sylvanas now, she had always known that while the older woman was a pretty good liar, Sylvanas had never been able to directly deceive her.

She turned back around, to do what, she didn’t know, but whatever she would have said or done was forgotten when her eyes landed on something behind just Sylvanas. They both had been so focused on their argument that neither Jaina nor Sylvanas had noticed how a single Naga had soundlessly appeared out of the water behind the Banshee. Blue eyes widened in abject horror as she saw how the creature’s trident flew right towards Sylvanas’s turned back. The realization that she would not be quick enough to warn the woman or even cast a spell to stop it or to protect Sylvanas, filled her with horror.

And maybe the fact that she had not forgiven Sylvanas, had been a lie, she thought as she gathered her powers as quickly as she could and used them to blink forward several meters. Jaina faintly heard Sylvanas letting out a confused noise, and that her red eyes widened and filled with befuddlement when she saw Jaina suddenly disappear.

The powerful Arch-Mage materialized at the last possible second, not even a fraction of a heartbeat later, and she felt how the trident impaled her through the chest. Jaina staggered and gasped as she felt the three tips leave her body through her back, her knees nearly gave out beneath her. The pain was far worse than she had expected, she felt her powers dwindle rapidly, and registered with a horrifying realization that the weapon must have been either enchanted or poisoned. 

She only barely heard the shocked gasp leave the woman behind her, but Jaina ignored it. She also ignored how the space behind her grew much colder and darker, and with a furious snarl, she raised her eyes to glare at the Naga. Before he was able to react, she gathered her last remaining powers and threw a large ice-spike right back at him. It pierced through the air and through his thinner throat scales without any trouble. The cold lance was just large enough that it took its head right off his neck when it collided with the Naga, instantly killing the foul creature.

Jaina herself only barely registered the fact the Naga’s body hit the wet ground beneath it as she staggered, she felt warm hands catch her when her knees finally gave out beneath her, but why were they warm- Sylvanas’s hands weren’t warm…

She felt her body being lowered to the ground, and when the tips of the weapon, that were poking out of her back, met the ground shockwaves of pain raced through her body, robbing her of her last few senses. Somebody was speaking above her, switching between desperate begging and harsh shouting. But she couldn’t understand any of what was being said, as her sight grew blurry and the edges of her vision grew dark. She felt how her body spasmed and shook all over.

Mixed between the desperate sounds coming from above her was the sound of multiple footsteps running towards them, but she did not even have the strength to turn her head to look who was coming. 

She closed her eyes, for a few seconds, she was far too exhausted to keep them open, but someone was shaking her, ordering her to open her eyes again. She did just that, but it was slow progress and it cost her the last bits of her strength. She saw red eyes looking down at her. Jaina tried to lift her right hand, but she didn’t have the strength for more than just a few twitches. Two warm hands clutched her hand between them, she felt as if she was drowning as hot blood entered her lungs. 

She desperately tried to say something, anything but her strength to do anything more than to just lie there was gone by that point, her body shuddered involuntarily. She felt her breathing slow down with every second that passed. Only barely did she register that the body around her was warm, she had missed Sylvanas’s skin being warm these last few decades. 

During these moments, lying on the rapidly reddening sand beneath her and with Sylvanas around her, did she find it almost funny that just a few minutes ago she had nearly begged Sylvanas to kill her and now she was really dying. She wanted Sylvanas to promise her that she would raise her, there was still so much that Jaina would and could do for this world. And even as she laid there dying, Jaina did not want to leave her lover alone, and especially not now when the woman was prepared to march to her doom to save a world that hated her.

“**Jaina**!!!" She knew that she had lost the fight to live when Sylvanas's desperate cry was the last thing she heard before the darkness at the edges of her vision claimed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: First of all, thank you to the many people who bookmarked the story, the people who commented and the people who left a Kudos for me, these things really help me. They give me the certainty that someone out there really likes what I’m doing. And if there is just one person out there who smiles when he sees an update from me then that is enough.
> 
> I’m really happy, this Chapter means multiple small achievements for me:
> 
> Firstly, it’s my first story, which is most likely going to be longer than three chapters.  
Secondly, it’s my first story which is both longer than 20k and 25k words.
> 
> So wohoo to me!
> 
> I originally wanted to publish this part a few days ago, but we changed our internet provider at the start of the week and well I haven’t had any internet until today, spent most of the day editing this piece.
> 
> This part grew from circa 6k words to 8k words, where I then noticed that I wasn’t still really done with the entire conversation until it is now over 11k words long. Oh well, *shrug*.
> 
> So yeah, you know now, most of what Sylvanas had really been up to in my story. I wanted to do this part and probably the next from Jaina’s point of view because I wanted the reader to see Sylvanas’s full plan from an outside perspective. So that you would learn with her. I don’t know how I’m going to be switching up the POV’s but I guess we’ll see. Maybe I switch them around during the chapters…
> 
> If you have any questions at all feel free to ask, I want to know if something came across as hard to understand so I can pick it up again in future chapters.
> 
> So, maybe leave a constructive review down below. Leave a kudos or maybe bookmark the story, that would really make my day.
> 
> Thank you very much, this is ScouterFight and I’m out :D.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi, well it has been fun…
> 
> And with that I mean it was a complete nightmare.
> 
> **IMPORTANT: ** I **rewrote** the **first three chapters. **
> 
> So, I would advise you to reread them once more. You don’t have to, nothing big plot-wise has changed, but there were some things that I felt that I had to change.
> 
> Expect a longer AN in the End Notes. I just wanna say that I’m deeply sorry for the delay. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy reading Chapter 4.

* * *

_ Sylvanas Windrunner snapped her eyes open, and when she didn’t recognize the ceiling above her, she quickly sprang to her feet, and positioned her body so that it was crouched low, near the ground. Her eyes blazed angrily as they quickly searched for any threats around her. She got even tenser when she couldn’t see anyone, alive or undead. And her eyes widened when she finally realized that there was a mass of swirling darkness all around her.  _

_ She barely relaxed when her senses told her that it was nowhere near similar to the kind the Old Gods emitted, it was calmer, not as crazed, and to her it felt almost soothing. That was the only reason, why she hadn't yet reached for Deathwhisper, whose familiar weight was firmly secured on her back. That caused her to pause, last, she could remember she hadn't had her weapon on her. She remembered laying it beside her new throne, but she couldn't remember strapping it back onto her back. _

_ She frowned even further when she got a closer look at the darkness around her, it didn’t just feel calm or soothing, it felt almost familiar. The more she studied it the more it resembled the magical aura her death infused weapon had, it felt like the unique death magic she and a handful of others wielded. The former Ranger General looked around, but couldn’t see much, the small space around her was lit up by a source she couldn’t see and the darkness around her didn’t emit any sounds. _

_ Sylvanas was completely alone, at least as far as she knew, she had no idea how thick the darkness around her was, or where she was in the first place. And as she didn't know how she got wherever she was now, in the first place there really wasn't much she could do. She would have to wait for whoever had brought her there to show themselves. And how that rankled her, uncertainty was something she hated to experience. _

_ She tried to think back. What was the last thing she could remember? She remembered being in a meeting just a few days after Vol’jin’s death, and her ascension as Warchief. She had been speaking with the rest of the Horde Leadership. They had been talking about what they would do next, now that the Legion was once more invading their world. She remembered that she had only closed her eyes for what had felt like a moment, and when she had opened them again, she had found herself here. _

_ The silence around her was at least merciful after the day of meetings she had. She was already tired of her new position and it hadn’t even been a full week yet. If not for the fact that someone had told Vol’jin to name her Warchief, she would have already pushed the position onto someone else before returning to Undercity, the Legion alone was simply not just worth the headache. _

_ She closed her eyes again and felt around, and at first, she couldn’t sense much, except for the darkness around her, but then suddenly there was something else, something that hadn’t been there before, she paused when she felt it’s metaphorical ‘stare’ focus on her. _

_ “I assume that you didn’t just bring me here to gawk at me.” She called out. _

_ When no answer came, she snarled. “Show yourself, I’m not a statue. I have far more pressing matters to attend to than being stared at.” _

_ A low chuckle echoed around her, "Such a prideful tongue, young elf. The similarities to your ancestors are quite astounding." She opened her eyes again and looked around but couldn't locate the very mischievous voice. But she also noted that it was tinged slightly as if the speaker was in pain. _

_ "I have the strange feeling that you aren't here to talk about my family tree either. State your business or return me from where you have taken me," Sylvanas growled that last bit, she was slowly starting to get annoyed. _

_ Another chuckle resounded through the space around her, but this time the Warchief managed to locate its source, she spun around ready to lash into whoever had dared to kidnap her, but when she caught sight of who, or better yet what had brought her here, she paused short. _

_ She blinked, she had never seen a child-sized, or teenaged sized, Titan before. She hadn't even known that such beings existed. But the small boy that was standing in front of her could not have been anything but at least related to the race of the Titans. He also looked weakened, as if he was sick. He was also leaning onto what seemed like an ancient staff. As if he couldn't hold up his weight on his own. _

_ While his facial structures were hard and defined, almost like they had been sculptured, he looked underweight, his dark eyes were sunken in and his skin color was almost ashen. The boy’s entire appearance was haggard, his forehead was glistening with sweat. And his pale silver hair was lying flat on his head, it looked greased and almost lifeless. _

_ He also wasn't very tall, the top of his head came barely to the height of her shoulders, and his face that maybe once had been round and full of life was thin, almost gaunt as if he had lost all the fat a child normally should have still possessed. _

_ His dark clothes that consisted of nearly black swirling robes, that flowed around his upper body, and shifted around his hips into comfortable legwear, were also ripped and dirty. _

_ Sylvanas knew that whoever or whatever that small person in front of her was, his appearance was deceptive. The boy looked horrible, and yet, she knew that he was no mere mortal. The power that came from the small body in front of her was almost overwhelming. His sick looking dark eyes still looked like swirling pools of darkness, they practically radiated power. _

_ By just looking at him she could feel his power, pulsing and writhing around him, but it felt wrong, almost as if he was one moment fighting to keep control over it, and another moment it fluctuated until almost nothing of its sizeable power remained. The small smile on his face was strained, he seemed genuinely happy to have her here, but just standing seemed to exhaust the being in front of her. _

_ The more she studied him, and the power she could feel around him, the more familiar he felt. And she suddenly remembered why he felt so familiar, she recognized his aura from when she used her death magic. Or when the Val’kyr brought new Forsaken back. Or when her Rangers were around her. Her eyes widened. _

_ The boy shifted when he saw the realization across her face. But he didn’t do anything, he just shifted his weight and waited for her to make the first move. Sylvanas realized that he wanted her to lead the conversation, at least for now. _

_ “Who are you?” She breathed out. Her voice too low to form the normally ever-present banshee echo. _

_ “I think the better question would be, what I am.” The boy grinned wryly at her, but when no reaction came, he turned serious. _

_ He bowed briefly before her as he began his introduction. “I’m the physical manifestation of Death, the Son of Nothing and Nobody, the Father of the Creator, the Original, the First Being that ever existed and the Last to ever exist, I’m Xiahan the Endless.” Here the Being paused, his face shifted and he looked almost embarrassed by the entire situation. “And I need your help, Sylvanas Windrunner daughter of Lireesa Windrunner and-” Sylvanas frowned briefly at the short pause Xiahan made before he spoke her father’s name. “Celnis Runeshine.” _

_ Sylvanas studied the entity in front of her for a few moments as she processed what she had just heard, apparently this child, this small boy was supposed to be the physical manifestation of death? _

_ The only reason why she wasn’t outright calling him a liar was that she felt his power, and not just his strength but also the familiarity that existed between his and her powers. _

_ "My help?" She was still skeptical. Because if this child- no this Entity in front of her was really telling the truth, then for what would he possibly need her help for? _

_ "Yes, your help. I'm running out of options and more importantly, we don't have-" he stopped speaking as a harsh coughing fit overtook his entire body, Sylvanas frowned when the being in front of her winced with each new involuntary rocking of his body. When the coughs finally stopped, he breathed in and out for a few moments, as if to reassure himself that he was still breathing. When Xiahan met her eyes again, he looked even more exhausted than he had before. _

_ He resumed speaking. "We don't have much time left anymore until it will be too late to stop them. To be honest, I can't deal with the situation on my own anymore, and so I have come to you." _

_ “What situation and who do you need to stop?” She crossed her arms in front of her chest, as she shifted her weight onto her right leg. _

_ He frowned, uncomfortable with the situation. And yet he still answered despite his obvious hesitance. “I have been… betrayed, “he said slowly, carefully choosing which words to use, “and this betrayal will lead to catastrophic consequences.” _

_ “What do you mean?” _

_ He shook his head, and the dirty looking white hair barely moved with the movement. “No, I first need your answer if you will help me or not, I can’t reveal more if you are going to refuse as that could just make everything worse.” _

_ She frowned. “And I can’t just say that I help you without knowing with what! I have a war to win, my world is standing on the brink of a conflict unlike anything Azeroth has ever seen before, I don’t have time for this.” _

_ “I can only tell you whatever is going to come, it is going to be so much worse than anything there has been yet. If this threat is not going to be stopped all life could cease to exist, the Legion that is threatening Azeroth is nothing in the face of what is to come.” _

_ Sylvanas shook her head, unconvinced. “I can’t just trust you not without some proof, and certainly not without some answers. I need concrete information before I can decide whether or not to help you.” _

_ When no answer came from the being, she made to turn away. “Now bring me back. This conversation is-” _

_ He interrupted her. “If you help me to stop this threat, then I’ll grant you and your Forsaken the afterlife you were robbed of.” _

_ The Warchief paused as her eyes widened, she turned back to Xiahan. _

_ The Entity continued when he noticed that he had her full attention, "Every single Undead, that has been cursed involuntary by either Frostmourne, the Helmet of Domination or some other way, will enter their desired afterlife after their final death. The vision you saw when you threw yourself off the Citadel won't come true, you'll never share the same fate as Arthas or Bolvar are going to face. I'll make sure of that, and your people are going to be granted their deserved afterlife as well, every single one of them." _

_ "No tricks, no take-backs, and you won't change your mind?" She had to be sure, this was everything she had fought for, for herself and her people. A way for them to escape that horrid vision. _

_ He shook his head. “No, I’ll swear to you Sylvanas Windrunner as soon as you have done what I need you to do, I’ll fix what has been broken. I would have done so under normal circumstances, but as you can probably guess, I’m not in the right condition to do anything right now.” Xiahan gestured to himself just as another coughing fit shook his small frame. _

_ She waited until he had recovered and then asked. “And those who have already died, and are cursed?” _

_ "As soon as this is fixed, I'll help those souls. I swear to you an oath that I can't do so right now or I would have already fixed this entire mess the thrice-damned Lich King has created." _

_ Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed, she searched for any hidden objective, any lies but she couldn’t find anything. And even her instincts were telling her to trust this strange powerful being. _

_ “Fine, I’ll help you,” She saw him relax slightly, “Now tell me what I’ll need to do.” _

_ “Good, but first you need to see what is going to happen should you fail in your quest.” _

_ Before she could say anything in response to that statement, Xiahan waved his right hand and the world around them shifted and transformed. _

_ The gentle swirling darkness around the became less and less until nothing of it remained. The source-less light dimmed and the floor underneath their feet became translucent. Sylvanas tensed up slightly, she and the Xiahan were floating several hundred meters above the ground. _

_ She looked around and nearly gasped out loud, the sky was so dark, lilac and full of strange lightning strikes, and yet she had a feeling that it was supposed to be daytime. The world around them was twisted and garbled, obelisks and tall dark structures littered the horrid landscape around them the earth was poisoned and split forming long and uneven cracks into the ground, most were filled with dark pools of corruption. Gigantic tentacles and horrible slitted eyes were everywhere. She twisted and looked all around herself, the world had become one giant nightmare. Everything around them screamed of death and madness. _

_ She felt her companion put his hand on her shoulder and slightly nudge her so that she would turn around. She did so, and nearly scrambled back, with shock, when she found herself looking directly into a giant slitted eye. _

_ "C'Thun." She gasped out loud. For the first time in years, she felt true fear as she stared into the giant eye of the Old God. The twisting eye didn't seem to notice them, as it observed the landscape around it. The giant eye pulsed every few seconds. _

_ She saw Xiahan wave his hand once more, and again the world shifted. Another Old God appeared before them, this one she recognized neither from tales nor from memories. _

_ "This is Y'Shaarj, the strongest of the four brothers. Should you fail then all four of them are going to return to Azeroth, and within a few weeks they'll have consumed this world, leaving nothing but their twisted Empires behind, filled with soulless abominations and twisted remains of those who once inhabited this world. All of them slaves to the whims of their new masters." The being of death explained softly, his voice was pained as he too took in the perverted world around them. _

_ Sylvanas looked over to the Being beside her and watched as he seemed to be struggling with himself, whatever he had to say next seemed to weigh heavily on him. _

_ Instead of speaking the Entity waved its hand and the world shifted for the third time, this time she was staring at something that horrified her more than the appearance of the Old Gods could have ever done. _

_ “J- Jaina?” But whatever she saw in the vision was not her (former?) lover. This was a monster, still oh so human in appearance but everything about her screamed Old God corruption. Her eyes were the replica of those of an Old God, glowing bright with a sick orange light, with those horrible slits as pupils. She was covered entirely in the dark lilac aura of the Void. It appeared so thick that it seemed to be almost black instead of lilac. Her once beautiful blonde, and later mostly white hair had been replaced by moving tentacles, they looked almost like snakes as they moved over her head. She still wore robes, but the one Sylvanas saw in the vision were the heavy and corrupted robes of a K’thir mage. _

_ As much as it pained her, she had to ask this. "Why didn't they change her- turn her into an abomination as they do with everybody else?" _

_ “Because this is your punishment.” _

_ She choked on nothing, not even air because for one horrifying moment she forgot to draw an unnecessary breath. "My- my punishment? What do you mean?!" _

_ "This is a vision of a future where you failed to stop the Old Gods on their rise to power, during your fight against them you must have caught their all-seeing eyes. When you failed, they kept you 'alive', and let you watch as they tortured Jaina into insanity- it took months. Months for her to break under the near-constant attention of all four of the Old Gods. But in the end, everyone breaks at some point, and everyone has a weak spot... you were hers…" _

_ “Even after everything?” She asked, she hadn’t seen Jaina in a long time, at least not directly, she had seen her during the debacle that was the Assault on the Broken Shore. But she hadn’t spoken with the humans since that farce of a Trial. _

_ "Even after everything." Xiahan nodded. "They realized that they would never be able to break her like that, so they turned their attention to you, and made her the one who had to watch their love being tortured. She broke. She surrendered and they turned her into what you can see in that vision. Afterward they well-" _

_ “Tell me.” Her voice was hard and gave no space for disagreement, she had to hear this. _

_ “You, your status as an undead gives you special protection, while they can physically hurt and torture you, they never could have broken or driven you into insanity like they can do with everybody else, the energies of the Void can’t harm you like that. So, when Jaina surrendered and broke, they gave her, her first order. She was ordered to break you, using only rare void energy. An impossible task of course.” _

_ “And when she didn’t succeed?” _

_ "They punished her severely, every single time she returned from an unsuccessful session with you, they made you watch as they tortured her again. You were each other's weak spot, your love for her and to see her in such a state, both corrupted and tortured, hurt you more than any of the physical torture could have ever done. And your inability to break like the Old Gods wanted tortured Jaina in the sense that she couldn't fulfill what her corrupted mind wanted her to do, and for those under the complete control of an Old God, to fail is torture enough." _

_ “Does it end?” _

_ “I-” The Being hesitated. _

_ “Tell me!” She nearly roared at him. _

_ Xiahan barely flinched, even when her voice echoed around them resembled a wail more than anything. “Yes, it ends…” _

_ “When?” _

_ "Within a few months, the power of the Old Gods reached unimaginable levels, allowing them to finally corrupt Azeroth's World Soul. And with that, they would have the power to destroy Death." _

_ “Death? You mean that they could destroy you?” _

_ “I’m Death, so technically yes. But I’m not only talking about myself. Should they achieve what they have set out to do, then they’ll rip the circle of Life and Death apart, the thing they fear the most will be destroyed and nothing will ever be able to stop the madness of the Old Gods, neither here on Azeroth nor on any other world.” _

_ “And the point to all of this?” _

_ “The Old Gods are fickle beings, while patient and brilliant, able to wait out their schemes for thousands of years, they are also like children in the regard that they can’t control themselves and they quickly lose interest in some things while others hold their horrible attention for far too long. They destroyed the barrier of Life and Death, exactly five months after they returned to Azeroth fully. Your final death took a lot longer to arrive.” _

_ “Tell. Me. NOW!” _

_ “Nearly two hundred years after Jaina broke, she had another session with you, at that point the sessions weren’t done daily anymore, as the Old Gods had become bored with torturing you. But they had kept both of you around. Taunting you nearly constantly, as they could, with the destruction of the barrier, now reach into your mind and soul. But the sessions with Jaina happened at that point only sparingly. During one of these sessions, something peculiar happened. Something that never should have happened especially not after such a long time has-“ _

_ “The point!” She growled. _

_ He sighed, "Jaina regained, for a few precious moments only, full control over herself, it was as if the hold over her soul, mind, and body, broke. But with that- well every memory of the last two hundred years crushed over her, nearly breaking her all over again with the weight of it all alone. But she remained strong enough to withstand falling apart, both against the memories and the overwhelming presence of the Old Gods all around you. Both of you knew that you only had a few seconds before the Old Gods discovered that something had gone wrong." He paused for a moment, almost lost in thought, and she nearly ripped his head off for that. _

_ "Would you-" She spat at him, but stopped when he turned towards her for the first time since he had shown her the horrid image of what could become of Jaina, of what had become of her after Sylvanas had failed. _

_ “I could show you.” When she only to continue to star at him he repeated himself. “If you want, I could show you, but it won’t be easy to bear.” _

_ “I-” she hesitated for a brief moment, but then steeled herself, “yes, show me.” _

_ He nodded. “Tell me when it gets too-” _

_ She interrupted him, Sylvanas just wanted to get this over with before she fully lost her nerve, whatever he had to show her would not be easy, the being beside her did not seem like someone who would be this affected by something trivial. "I'll be able to bear it." _

_ At least she hoped she would be, but she felt as if she had to see this. She almost knew that not realizing what could become of Jaina had caused the Sylvanas from this horrid alternate future to fail. And she would not make the same mistake. _

_ "Very well." With a sigh, he waved his hand and the world around them shifted once more. _

_ They were now standing in a large round room. The room was dark, with no light source except for the hole directly over the center of the small otherwise window and strangely doorless room. A faint shimmer told her that the hole in the ceiling was most likely heavily enchanted, this also kept most of the light from the outside world out. _

_ The faint light from the hole shone directly onto the slumped figure beneath it. Sylvanas realized with a start that she was looking at herself, the slumped figure wore no clothes so nearly ever scar-, every physical scar, Sylvanas remained herself, was open for display. _

_ The Warchief nearly took a complete step back and if it had not been for her status as an undead, she would have gotten sick and most likely vomited all over the floor. Because the Sylvanas from the vision looked absolutely wrecked. Sylvanas mentally ran over every injury, scar or similar she could see, and the amount she found within just a few seconds shocked her. _

_ Her hair looked as if several large chunks had just been ripped right out, the rest that remained was extremely short, it didn’t even reach her ears, and speaking of ears, one was missing nearly completely. The right one had been cut off shortly after its base, and the other one was cowered in twisted burns. _

_ One of the eye's looked as if it had been gouged out and the other was so swollen shut that the slumped figure could barely keep it open, her lips were split by three horrid scars, and her left cheek looked as if it had been ripped open, uncovering some of her teeth, most of which were missing, and her right cheek was too covered in one giant burn. _

_ The right arm had been brutally amputated shortly after the elbow and then uncaringly cauterized, the other was covered in dark runes and glowing scars, her left hand was missing several fingers. Her torso and breasts were also covered in the same runes and similar scars, with the exception that they had also been burned, just like her eyebrow and right cheek. _

_ The large scar on her stomach where Arthas had stabbed her had tripled in size as if someone had enjoyed running her through over and over again always through the same exact spot. One of her legs had been similar amputated but only over the left foot, both legs were also covered in various cuts, runes, burns. And her right thigh missed a huge chunk, giving it the appearance as if a beast had just taken a bite out of it. _

_ Xiahan’s voice startled her out of her horrified observations. It had been a long time since anything had managed to shock Sylvanas like this, but her own body in such a state had done so. _

_ "In the beginning, they always healed you, so that they had more… space for Jaina to work with. After they lost interest, they also stopped healing your injuries, but make no mistakes, the healing process was almost as painful as the torture itself." _

_ “I wasn’t about to think so. I’m guessing you… paused the vision?” _

_ “Yes, I wanted to give you time to observe, but it wouldn’t have changed much, at this point you barely moved at all anymore. Another reason for the Old Gods to lose interest, at some point you simply stopped resisting. Of course, you weren’t broken, but when no more screams of rage, pain and filled with promises of revenge came, and you mostly stopped responding to their taunts and the torture itself, they eventually lost interest. And the sessions stopped being regularly or that often. Sometimes Jaina-“ He paused as if he was unsure if he should go on. _

_ “Yes.” She prompted. _

_ "Jaina still driven by her need to finally fulfill her first order would often approach either of the Old Gods herself and beg them to let her try one more time, I guess they found it amusing. Knowing that if you hadn't broken after two hundred years, even with the Barrier between Life and Death shattered, that you wouldn't break any time soon. So, they sometimes allowed and sometimes forbad her, but they always punished her for asking anyway. So, you still had to watch regularly how they tortured Jaina. They created the perfect devil's circle with you two, a never-ending circle of torture, despair and yet that last bit of resistance that amused them just enough that they didn't outright kill and replace you two. _

_ "Alright enough. You wanted to show me what happened, was going to happen… Would it be going to happen?" _

_ He shook his head and chuckled darkly. "Stop, time is confusing which is why I never really deal with it, and only watch the visions of a possible future, just like with this one. _

_ “So, time is confusing, even for you?” _

_ “Are you stalling?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow. _

_ Sylvanas choose not to answer that. _

_ And suddenly the vision around them shifted slightly, and something formed in the room, only a meter away from the slumped Sylvanas in the center. The Warchief swallowed, when she saw Jaina again, she hadn't changed a bit from the first glimpse Xiahan had shown her. But it was still hard to take everything in, the changes were horrible to witness, but they had been clearly chosen with the intent not to change too much so that she would always be recognized as Lady Jaina Proudmoore, and not just another identity-less K'thir. _

_ Just another torture method, Sylvanas growled at the audacity the Old Gods showed, now even more determined to destroy those monstrosities once and for all. _

_ The Sylvanas on the floor had barely moved except for a short look at her torturer. Sylvanas hated the fact that this is what their relationship had ended up as, torturer and torture. She wanted to march out of this cell and throttle every single being that she encountered. _

_ "Well, I wonder what it is going to be today?" 'Jaina' asked, with a sickly-sweet smile and cruel voice, as she began to circle around the still slumped form of the elf. _

_ Only then did Sylvanas realize that her counterpart wasn’t chained down, she wondered how long it had been until they had been able to leave her unchained. And then decided that she really didn’t want to know the answer. _

_ “But to be honest there isn’t much left of you, maybe I should throw you into a void-healing tank again, and leave you there for a few years. Maybe the constant presence of highly concentrated void energies would finally break you?” Sylvanas hated herself when she saw her counterpart flinch several times during Jaina's short monologue, she couldn't imagine how horrible those tanks had to be but the reaction, and the fact that void and healing should never be used for the same thing told her enough. _

_ When no other reaction came from the slumped form at her feet, Jaina finally coming to a stand behind Sylvanas, snarled, it was a horrible and twisted sound, and forcefully wretched Sylvanas’s head back. She gripped the elf’s short hair so tightly that she also managed to rip several strands out.  _

_ Jaina forcefully pulled Sylvanas's head back until the passive body at her feet arched nearly completely backward. And with another snarl of rage threw her against the wall behind her. Sylvanas's counterpart collided with the wall with horrible cracking sounds, that signaled several broken bones. The tortured elf slowly rightened herself again and sat with her back against the wall, her left, footless, leg laying in front of her and her right one used as support for her upper body. She was barely breathing but that didn't worry the Banshee Queen, after all, she technically didn't have to breathe anymore, who had turned her attention to Jaina to observe the twisted woman. _

_ The corrupted mage had started pacing across the room while vision Sylvanas had sat up again, and now she was muttering under her breath. Mad incarnations that sounded garbled and had to be in Shath'Yar. Jaina marched up to the slumped figure so abruptly that it even startled the just observing Sylvanas, but her vision’s counterpart barely reacted. _

_ Jaina dropped to her knees in front of Sylvanas, and roughly took her head into her hands, she yanked the elf’s head up and opened her mouth to say something, most likely some kind of spell, but when Sylvanas’s eye and Jaina’s eyes connected the mage stopped short. Sylvanas narrowed her eyes as the dark glow around Jaina slowly receded until it was only a very light lilac, and as her eyes returned to their original color and pupils. Both figures in the vision were frozen for a moment, and then a startled sob broke out of the mage as Sylvanas’s eye widened. _

_ Jaina shifted her hold until she went from purely gripping Sylvanas' head to cradling it between her gloved hands. And Sylvanas raised her one remaining hand and lightly caressed Jaina's face with it. _

_ "Jaina?" Sylvanas's voice was nothing more than a rasp, the echo of her Banshee form completely missing, and she sounded as if she hadn't spoken in the last two centuries, only screamed. And with a start, the Banshee Queen realized that it was most likely the case. _

_ "Yeah, it's me Sylvanas." Jaina sobbed, her voice had lost its maniac and corrupted edge, it was replaced by pure desperation and horrible gut-wrenching fear. _

_ Both women touched their foreheads together and just breathed each other in, their breaths mingled and their arms encircled each other. But the brief peaceful calm was shattered when the aura around Jaina became darker again. Both women noticed and Sylvanas heard herself sob for the first time since she had been a child. _

_ “Please no, I can’t, I can’t do this anymore, please Jaina, I can’t…” Sylvanas began to mumble, so lost in her hopelessness at the fact that she was going to lose her Jaina once again after just a few moments of having her again. _

_ "Shh, Sylvanas. Everything is gonna be fine." Jaina murmured in Sylvanas's ear. Without moving her head, the mage took of both of her gloves and laid them on the ground beside her, before she withdrew a wicked-looking dagger from its sheath behind her back. _

_ When Sylvanas failed to react, the Warchief watched as Jaina carefully put her now gloveless hand gently beneath Sylvanas’s chin, and oh so slowly lifted the slumped elf’s head up until Sylvanas eye connected with her own. _

_ Jaina smiled softly at Sylvanas and then leaned in, she stopped millimeters before their lips connected and waited for Sylvanas to make the final move. The other woman quickly pressed her scarred lips to Jaina’s and they both kissed for a few precious moments, for what they both, and their silent observers, knew would be their final kiss. Only when the aura around Jaina flickered once more, did the mage manage to draw the strength to break the kiss. _

_ "I love you Sylvanas Windrunner with all my heart, and what is left of my soul," Jaina whispered softly, her voice already beginning to gain that twisted edge again. "And when you die then they won't reach you. They can't take the souls of those who have already passed. I know that because it made them very angry when they realized that. They can only stop death, but not keep you here, they can reanimate your body but not your soul. So… if I do this, then you'll be gone… forever..." Jaina trailed off _

_ And somehow the tortured vision of Sylvanas still managed to smirk at Jaina, with that familiar twist of her lips. “I love you Jaina Proudmoore, and it’s alright. I can’t keep doing this anymore, so please, just promise me that you’ll follow me.” _

_ Jaina hesitated for just a few seconds but then she nodded softly. _

_ "I promise," Jaina whispered. _

_ The powerful Warchief had almost asked Xiahan to pause the vision several times but had held herself back each time the urge to open her mouth nearly overwhelmed her, she knew, instinctively that she had to see this. Even though it hurt to hear so much pain in Jaina's voice. _

_ “It's alright, just do it. I trust you.” Sylvanas whispered as her remaining eye closed in acceptance. _

_ One desperate sob escaped Jaina, and her hands shook as she pressed the blade against the scarred skin right above where Sylvanas’s heart rested. _

_ "I love you," Sylvanas whispered. _

_ Jaina sobbed, "I love you too." And with that, she pressed her blade a little harder, and it sunk into Sylvanas's body like it was nothing, within a few precious moments the blade had pierced her heart, and the former Warchief went still, slumped against the wall behind her and against Jaina's arms. Her eyes fell closed and one last breath and whisper escaped her. _

_ “Love you…” _

_ Jaina left the blade for a few more seconds in Sylvanas's body and stared at it, and as the Warchief watched together with the old being beside her, Sylvanas knew that Jaina was quickly stretching out her senses to check if her lover was well and truly gone. And when Jaina couldn't feel her anymore, she finally broke down, she sobbed as a handful of tears escaped her eyes before she managed to once more to forcefully rein in her emotions. _

_ The Warchief knew that the mage would have to know that she had only a few moments left until it would be too late to fulfill her promise. But the kneeling woman still took the time to lean down once more and to kiss Sylvanas one final time. That done she carefully pulled the blade out of Sylvanas' body. The Banshee Queen saw her eyes and aura flicker and all three of them knew that the monsters that had corrupted and broken the mage weren't too far away from drawing her fully back under their control. _

_ The Warchief watched as Jaina slumped down against the wall beside Sylvanas’s body and looked at the dagger in her hands. Something flickered in her eyes, and Sylvanas felt her own narrow in suspicions when she saw a familiar darkness flash through those beautiful blue orbs. And then it disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Jaina with one not quite happy but also not quite sad smile raised the dagger in her hands above herself and rammed it into her own chest. And with the last reserves of her strength, she ripped it out again. _

_ Sylvanas watched how peace and calmness overcame her lover for the first time in over two centuries as lilac blood rushed out of the wound in Jaina's chest. The human closed her eyes and with her last breath she managed to whisper something, before her body slumped over, falling directly on top of her lover's _

_ “And I love you.” _

_ With that Jaina Proudmoore followed her lover into the last safe spot in the universe, the afterlife, where even the Old Gods could never hope to reach. _

_ Xiahan’s once more brought Sylvanas’s mind back to herself, she had lost herself completely in the vision and hadn’t noticed when it had ended and the swirling darkness had returned. _

_ “Had she hesitated for just a few more moments then it would have been too late.” _

_ “That was your doing, wasn’t it?” She turned halfway to the entity beside her. _

_ "Huh?" He feigned nonchalance as if he didn't know what she was talking about. _

_ “The fact that the Old Gods can’t reach departed souls, that has to do with you, right?” _

_ He nodded. “Yes… my final defiant act against the Old Gods and their corruption. I give up my body and consciousness to become the guardian of departed souls, as long as I’m around, every soul that passes me is safe. I can’t protect everybody, but those I can at least.” _

_ "Thank you," Sylvanas whispered, but she wasn't just thanking him for keeping their departed souls safe, but also for the flicker she had seen in Jaina's eyes, and she knew that Xiahan must have pushed her to do it before it became too late. _

_ “Of course, it is my duty.” _

_ She smirked at him and saw the realization in his eyes, and Sylvanas knew that he now knew that she had figured it out. "No, thank you. For everything." _

_ The age-old being beside her just nodded. _

_ "Now let's talk about what you have to do so that this never comes to pass." _

_ When she heard those words, she felt her smirk turn into a grin, flashing her teeth as she thought about the upcoming hunt, she would not fail, after she had seen the vision of what could happen, she wouldn’t allow herself to fail. _

* * *

Sylvanas’s entire body shook with rage, as she carefully laid Jaina’s lifeless form onto the ground, the three Rangers who had hurried towards them, when they had noticed that something had happened, stopped a few meters away from her. She looked up and locked eyes with Delaryn.

“Prepare one of the highest rooms in my family’s Spire, and hurry!”

“Yes, Dark Lady.” Delaryn nodded curtly. Then just as quickly as she had come, the raised Kaldorei woman ran back up the path leading away from the beach. Her long black cloak billowing behind her.

Alina in the meantime had crouched down next to her, her brows furrowed darkly when she saw the green shimmer on the trident. Her eyes narrowed even further when her keen nose detected something her eyes couldn't see. She glanced over to Sylvanas and when their eyes locked, the older Ranger gestured questioningly towards the Trident. Sylvanas nodded curtly before she stood back up.

Clenching both her hands and her teeth to prevent herself from lashing out at everything she could find. There would still be time later, but for now, she had to deal with this, she couldn't let herself give in to the rage, it would just make everything worse. Damage control first, and then she could rage and grief at the injustice of it all.

Sylvanas watched for a moment, as Alina softly and carefully withdrew the large weapon from Jaina's torso before she had to look away. The sight just hurt too much, so instead she drew upon the bond she shared with her remaining Val'kyr. Within seconds Aradne, Kyra, and Signe appeared floating above the grotesque scene. She looked each of the beautiful women in the eyes and gave them one single command.

“Raise her.”

The three floating women frowned almost in unison.

Kyra came forward, the youngest of her three remaining Val’kyr, but that made her no less powerful than the other two. “My lady, this will destroy me. Then you only have-”

She interrupted her, with an angry shake of her head. “I don't care! Raise her!" She nearly screamed at her Val'kyr.

Aradne was the one who stepped forward now. "You know that we won't be able to save you again. We need at least three of us to successfully raise you. When you die next, it will be your final death."

Sylvanas growled “Do it! That is an order!

Kyra nodded, defeated but also with an unreadable glint in her glowing eyes.

"Delaryn is preparing a room in the Windrunner Spire for Jaina, as we speak. Do it there, and hurry up. Every second that is wasted-" She trailed off, all six of them aware of what she meant.

Kyra lowered herself onto the ground until she was kneeling next to Jaina's lifeless body. Alina had gotten back to her feet while the short argument had progressed above her head, the Naga weapon was clutched in her right hand. The Ranger quickly stepped away from the body. Both she and Vorel distanced themselves from the scene without another word.

Kyra meanwhile had slowly lifted Jaina's body into her arms and began to float again. The Val'kyr bowed her head once, a farewell gesture aimed at the Banshee Queen, and Sylvanas returned it in kind. She had always respected the Val’kyr for their selfless sacrifices, and she would remember every single one of them for as long as she could.

And then without another word, all three Val’kyr flew inland, towards Windrunner Spire. Jaina’s body safely cradled in Kyra’s protective arms.

Sylvanas watched them until they had disappeared from view. She felt both of her Rangers drawing closer to her again. But for now, she paid them no mind, she was already thinking about everything that she would have to do now. 

This complicated everything.

"This weapon was meant for you, milady," Alina stated quietly.

“I know.”

Vorel frowned, glancing towards the corpse of the Naga, that was lying just a few meters away from them. “Whoever sent this assassin knew that you would be here tonight.”

Alina continued, seamlessly. “That means that someone must have intercepted your letters.”

Sylvanas growled lowly in her throat. “That is unimportant for now. Alina, find Voss. You both know what to do.”

The Ranger tilted her head slightly and frowned. "Isn't it a bit too early?"

Sylvanas shook her head, her body still quivering with rage, at the injustice of it all. "No. Because we won't have much time left with the disappearance of the Lord Admiral on our hands. Even if nobody knew that she was meeting with me, the Alliance is still going to be up in arms about this." She sighed, her mind racing, to process everything she would have to do now. Even if the only thing she wanted to do right now, was to be at Jaina's side through it all. But there was something that she had to do first before she could do anything else...

The Warchief continued. “They, and especially the Little Lion, won’t rest until they find out what happened to Jaina. So, our plans have to change slightly. But that really doesn’t matter, we have everything we need.”

"We just have to move a bit quicker than we had planned," Alina concluded.

“Exactly.” Sylvanas nodded, she turned her head towards the other Ranger that was standing slightly behind the Duskweaver. “Vorel you accompany me.”

Vorel raised a long eyebrow. “May I ask what we are going to be doing?”

Sylvanas’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she growled as dark magic writhed over her skin. “Naga hunting.”

* * *

Derek Proudmoore glanced up from his book when a nearly inaudible sound entered his ears. He looked up and around the room but found nothing aside from the crackling of the fireplace. He frowned when his eyes couldn’t seem to find from where the strange could have come from. The experienced sailor could have sworn that the sound had originated from above him, but there was nothing, but the ceiling and hidden behind the stone, the roof of this part of the Keep.

He strained his ears for a few more moments and when nothing else came, he glanced briefly over to the fireplace and noticed that the flames were slowly dying. Shaking his head, he returned to his book. It had probably just been a small critter.

While the flames were slowly dying beside him, he made no move to change anything about that, after all, he did not need the light to read anyway, the night vision that his undead granted him would allow him to read with barely any light with absolutely no difficulty. But he liked the illusion of the comfort and warmth the fireplace gave him, it reminded Derek of simpler times.

Times when he had still been alive and spent the nights away studying, always trying to impress his father, on his journey to becoming the Commander of the Third Fleet.

Sometime when he closed his eyes and just listened to the world around him, he could still hear the shrieks of his younger siblings, from when they both had just been tiny blond-haired children. He would remember the times when those two troublemakers had spent all their afternoons running around all over the keep, creating chaos wherever they went. Images of Jaina, with her bubbling magical powers, or his father’s booming laughter, or even his mother’s nowadays rare chuckles were forever imprinted into his mind.

The keep had grown very quiet in his long absence and he missed the simplicity of the time before the Second War.

Derek was just about to turn the page in his book when he heard another sound, a scratching one coming from the windows. Putting his book down with a small sigh he stood up, his hand automatically moving to where his sword should be before remembering that he had stopped carrying it around the Keep. He had noticed that his presence, especially if he was armed, made the guards tense up, whenever he turned around corners.

“Damnit,” he muttered, as a flash of pain erupted in his chest at yet another reminder of how much things had changed.

It hurt that his people didn’t trust him. He and his father had always carried their blades with them, and Tandred had also started picking that habit up before Derek and Daelin had left for the war, even though it had driven their mother nuts sometimes.

But now, only a few weeks after, he had returned, and the joy of coming home had dispersed, he had started to notice the glances, the tense shoulders and the whispered arguments between the Keep’s guards.

Derek rarely left the Keep, he spent most of the time in his room or here in the library, but he was not blind, and he knew that his presence made the guards and most of the populace nervous. He was aware that their exposure to the undead was severely limited, and now the only undead the Kul Tirans had to deal with, were those who fought for the Horde, for the enemy. He truly understood it, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with.

The distrust in his people’s eyes hurt far more than he would ever let on, even his mother and sister were different around him, his mother’s eyes were always tight, and his sister barely touched him. But he knew that if he pushed the issue that it would not solve anything, he had to let them come to him.

Another sound ripped him out of his thoughts, this one clearly coming from the windows on the other side of the room, and it was much louder than the ones from before, so he knew that this one had been intentionally made loudly enough for him to hear.

With a square of his shoulders he walked towards the windows, it was a clear night, with nearly no wind, so the weather could not be the reason for the strange sounds he had been hearing. Clenching his fist in preparation to having to fight off an assassin unarmed, he cracked the window open slightly, seeing no one directly in front of him, but also unwilling to stick his head through, he waited for a few more moments, when suddenly a figure crouched in black dropped down onto the window seat.

He jumped back and dropped, still unarmed, into a fighting crouch, but when milky silver eyes met with blazing red, his widened and he relaxed his stance again. He recognized the female elf crouching in front of the window, he just hadn’t expected to see her this soon.

“Please come in.” He mentioned for her to enter the room.

Another cloaked person dropped into the room behind the first one.

He nodded to both of them. “Lady Duskweaver, lady Voss. May I ask what are you doing here?”

The two undead women glanced at each other and Lillian took a step towards him.

"Is it- is it time?" He asked them, unsure because they still should have had a few more weeks before Sylvanas could begin the next phase of her plans.

"The plans have changed." Lillian rasped softly. Her glowing blue eyes were flickering around the room as she spoke, even though he knew that she would have never entered the room in the first place if she had been unsure if he had been alone. But he supposed years of hiding in the shadows installed a healthy dose of paranoia in everybody.

His eyes narrowed. “What happened? Is everything alright?”

Alina was the one to answer his question this time, her voice while cold was not biting. “Something happened. Lady Proudmoore has-”

“Jaina?! What happened. Is she alright?!” He stepped towards the elf, who glared at him for the interruption.

“She is fine… relatively speaking.” Lillian answered for her partner.

He glanced towards her. “What do you mean?”

“She died, Derek. A Naga killed her a few hours ago,” Alina said flatly, but there were still traces of sympathy in her voice.

His eyes widened and he felt as if the floor dropped out underneath him. His little sister, dead, killed by some Naga.

Jaina his little sister,  _ dead _ .

They never had the chance to truly reconnect. And now she was dead so they never would get another chance, he had always told himself tomorrow was another day but now… she was  _ dead _ , just gone, like the wind.

He staggered back a few steps, back towards his armchair, the plushy comfort barely registered, only the rustling of armor directly in front of him brought him out of his stupor. He raised his face from where it had been buried in his hands to look at the elf now standing directly in front of him and his armchair.

“You humans…” Alina made a tsk sound and crossed her arms in front of her chest, “Always so quick to jump to conclusion. Didn’t you listen? Voss just told you that your sister is fine.”

“She is alright?” Derek muttered dazed.

"Yes, she is fine," Alina stressed that word. And when Derek only stared at her with even more glazed eyes than normal, she took his shoulders into her hands and shook him once, twice and then a third time.

“But she is dead…” Derek muttered dazedly.

Alina’s eyes narrowed at that, and he heard Lillian chuckle somewhere behind the Ranger, but he couldn’t focus on his surroundings, there was something he wasn’t getting and the confusion, grief, and anger that had begun to well up in him made him lightheaded, he hadn’t even known that he could still feel like that.

A harsh slap brought him back to reality.

He registered with a start that Alina had slapped him, the rough leather of her gloves scraping against his dead skin. He jerked back and stared wide-eyed at the glaring Ranger, Voss's chuckles had developed into fully blown laugher, the rasping and echoing sound rang all around the room, and against the hard stone-walls. And yet it still took him a few more seconds before he finally made the connection in his head. He groaned in embarrassment and buried his face in his hands. He was such an idiot.

"She was raised?" His voice still sounded a bit dazed, and he didn't know if he hoped that the Ranger would say either yes or no. On one hand, he wanted his sister safe, but he wanted her safe and more importantly  _ alive _ . He didn’t want this existence for her, she had suffered so much, and now being undead would be another cruel blow the world threw at her.

Alina nodded curtly and stepped back slightly. Derek closed his eyes. He forced his shoulders to relax slightly and drew in a deep, unnecessary breath.

“Is she alright?” He repeated his question, but this time his eyes were much clearer and the question was directly directed at the two women across from him.

“She is as well as she can be.”

“I have to see her.”

He stood up abruptly and nearly ran right into Alina, who quickly took a step to the side to avoid the collision, as he carelessly took two large steps towards the center of the room. The Ranger threw another harsh glare at him, but he ignored her in his fever to see his younger sister.

He wanted to go right now and just barely stopped himself from running out of the door. He didn’t even know where his sister was, never mind the fact that he most likely wouldn’t even be able to get there, on his own.

"That is why we are here." Voss's voice was still full of amusement, but her words were deadly serious. "And because the plan has changed. We are moving it up a bit, we have everything we need now, and with your sister now being one of us, the risk that we are discovered is much greater. Her disappearance is going to be noticed soon. We can't really afford to waste any more time."

“And Dread-Admiral Tattersail has requested your presence, so we would most likely have picked you up anyway.” Alina added, the ever-present echo in her voice never wavering as she spoke.

"So, I would suggest that you get everything you need, and then meet us back here. We have an additional hearthstone that is going to bring you to your sister." Voss suggested as she made herself comfortable on one of the larger sofas. Derek had to stifle a chuckle when he imagined his mother's reaction at seeing an undead rogue lying on her expansive leathers.

“But won’t my disappearance be noticed?”

"Oh, don't worry, we have an idea," Alina smirked and pulled two small vials out of her pockets.

He narrowed his eyes when he couldn't recognize the strange liquid inside.

“What are those?”

"Explosives. One of those packs enough of a punch to level this entire room. We make it seem like an attack on your life, and on your mother. Now don't give me that look, nothing is going to happen to her, she isn't even in the Keep right now. She is currently on her way to the docks to speak with her docking master, he has asked her to meet him there."

He frowned. “He has?”

Alina smirked. "No, we have just made it seem like he has, in reality, he is sitting blackout drunk in one of the taverns. But by the time your mother makes it back to the Keep, the explosions will already have done their job."

He frowned, still uncomfortable with the idea. “What about the guards?”

"Voss is gonna cause a little chaos. A Forsaken is seen by the guards around the Keep, and then only minutes later two large explosions set off, one here in the library and one near your mother's chambers. Everyone survives, no one gets hurt, and we made it seem as if this was an attack on the Proudmoore's done by the evil Warchief."

Derek frowned, he still didn’t like it but he could understand where they were coming from. So he just nodded and quickly left the library to gather what he needed from his rooms. HE was already running through a list of everything he would have to take with him. His sword, his coat, his compass, his...

* * *

Jaina abruptly sat up wide-eyed in bed when the vision she had just seen disappeared-

_ Wait a moment… in bed? _

Last she remembered she had been on a beach! The Naga! The spear aimed at…! Her eyes widened in realization-  _ Sylvanas _ !

She groaned when pain suddenly erupted all over her body, she hunched over and grasped her head in her hands, as she waited for the usual headache to explode behind her eyelids, like it always did, every time she woke up after Theramore. But the headache stayed away, the rest of her body, on the other hand, ached horribly.

“What happened?” She asked herself, as the pain slowly began to recede.

She hadn’t expected the darkness around her to answer. “Well you were an idiot, that is what happened.” The drawling voice startled Jaina so much that she brought up her right hand without thinking, she looked up with wide eyes when she heard an ice-lance shatter against a wall, she hadn’t meant to do that.

"Oh good. Your magic is fine." Sylvanas drawled again, as she reformed a meter away from where Jaina was sitting. "Your aim, on the other hand, leaves much to be desired, but I also have to say that we can count ourselves lucky that you missed or your idiotic stunt would have been for nothing."

“Got you to shift, didn’t I?” Jaina bit out, she wasn’t in the mood for one of Sylvanas’s games, what she had just seen and the fact that she was well and truly undead were slowly catching up to her.

“I…” Jaina swallowed, she wasn’t really sure what she wanted to say.

Sylvanas cocked her head. “Yes?”

"When I was… unconscious. I saw… something."

Sylvanas sighed, “Yes I had a feeling you would.”

“What do you mean?” Was this normal, she asked herself, to see those flashes? “I mean when you raised others, did they also see visions?”

“Normally they see visions from their own past, but I guess that wasn’t what you meant?”

“No. I saw you… and someone else. Someone powerful…” Jaina trailed off again.

“It seems as if someone likes to meddle where they really aren’t wanted,” Sylvans growled lowly.

“Huh?”

“Someone very powerful meddled in the ritual that raised you,” Sylvanas explained.

Jaina’s eyes widened, and she frowned when frost began to build up underneath her hands. “What?!”

Sylvanas raised her hands in a peaceful gesture, but it did little to calm Jaina’s nerves. “Don’t worry it is nothing bad, at least I don’t think so. But that Being is on our, or at least on my side.”

The mage shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“You mention that in the vision you saw me and someone else, someone powerful.”

“Yes,” she answered even though technically Sylvanas hadn’t really posed it as a question.

"That was Xiahan, and let's just say that he is very invested in my mission, as he was the one who ordered me to stop the Old Gods. It seems as if he couldn't resist showing you my meeting with him."

“But why?”

“Maybe he wanted to convince you that I was telling the truth, but that wasn’t all he has done. He also showed me flashes, of your past. I saw multiple of your memories-”

“I only saw that one moment.”

"Either he only wanted to show you that, or the fact that you were recently raised messes with your memory, but if he truly showed you more, than the rest should return within the next few weeks, as soon as your body, mind, and soul have adjusted to being undead. The first few weeks are the hardest, we undead struggle the most during the first few weeks, we are emotional, struggle to speak sometimes, because we feel as if we don't have the right words, mages struggle with their magic, especially with the arcane. And so much more, but everything settles after a handful of weeks."

“So, I should regain any memories I’m currently missing?”

The Warchief nodded. “Technically, yes.”

“I still don’t understand why this… Xiahan meddled with the ritual.”

“I don’t know, either. But I don’t think it was meant malicious.”

“What did you see?” Jaina asked the woman sitting at her bedside.

“Various memories…”

“All of them mine?”

“Yes. I saw flashes of Antonidas, of your family, of…” Sylvanas frowned. “Arthas. But I also saw very specific memories. The founding of Theramore, Stratholme, the moment Antonidas accepted you as his student, the destruction of Theramore… our first meeting.” Sylvanas cleared her throat. “Just to name a few.

“Really?”

"Yes. Some were important, moments that shaped you, others were just random points in your life if you ever regain your full memory, I guess you are going to be seen similar scenes from my life."

“I hope that they come back.” Jaina nearly whispered.

‘ _ There is so much about your past that I never got the chance to ask _ ’, she thought to herself. The mage knew speaking those words out loud wouldn’t go over well with Sylvanas.

Sylvanas frown minutely. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. But remember the first few days, and sometimes weeks, after being raised are always hard. And everyone deals with it differently. Now, do you have any questions?”

“Yes, so many. I don’t even know where I should start…”

"How about I tell you everything I think you need to know. And then when you still have questions, I'm going to answer them afterward."

Jaina just nodded. On top of her blurry memories, and the information that some meddled in the ritual that raised her, her emotions were also all over the place. But she didn’t worry too much about that, Sylvanas had said that they would settle after a while. Everything was an adjustment, and she wasn’t sure if she was really ready for it all. Everything even Sylvanas's touch felt different now.

“Ok, first of. You have been unconscious for the better part of a day, the Naga attacked you roughly eighteen hours ago. The ritual wasn’t longer or shorter than it is usual in your case.”

“In my case?”

"You still had the poison in your system and the Val'kyr were extremely careful in preserving as much of you as they could. So, it took them a little bit longer than had they just raised your normally."

Sylvanas waited until Jaina had processed this information, and when she spoke again her voice was just a little bit softer. “If you have any questions at any point don’t hesitate to ask them.”

Jaina nodded once.

"I think the most important thing you need to know, right of the bat is that nearly everything that feels strange now is completely natural. After all, you are settling into a new normal, being alive, and being undead are two extremely different states of being. Many underestimate what really happens to someone who was raised. The first few weeks are not just confusing they can also be dangerous if the new undead has no one to turn to, so if you have any questions, at any moment don't hesitate to ask them." Sylvanas gently slid one of her hands under Jaina's chin and slowly raised her head.

“Promise me, that if something feels strange that you come to me about it. Even if it is just a movement that feels wrong.”

Jaina looked into Sylvanas’s eyes and nodded once. “I promise.”

The Banshee Queen nodded approvingly. “Good, the next thing you need to know is that there are very different sorts of undead. And I’m not talking about the differences between a Forsaken and a Death Knight for example. I’m talking about the three generations of Forsaken.”

“There are Generations?” Jaina asked with wide eyes, she had never noticed any noticeable differences among the Forsaken that would have justified separating them in any way.

"Yes, the first Generation is composed of those who were originally raised by Arthas and the Scourge. Those who were then freed by me. These days we, the Originals, only make up a very small part of the Forsaken. Many of us were lost over the years, but our numbers weren't really that great, to begin with, at least when compared to the second, and the third. The first Generation, with a few notable exceptions, are marked with the most advanced stages of rot and decay, as most of those raised by Arthas, keep continuing to rot even years after they were raised. The First Generation is also the one who abhors the living the most. There is a reason why that Generation is also called the Scorned Generation."

The recently raised mage swallowed harshly. “Because the living scorned them when they tried to reach out for help.” Jaina guessed.

"Yes, the Next Generation, are those who were raised by me and my Val'kyr after I made a pact with the beings. These men and women were raised freely, and after the shock wore off, they accepted their existence and lived on with their lives.

"The bodies of those Forsaken while sometimes in an even worse state than those of the first-gen, won't ever rot any further. Their bodies are much better preserved because of their connection to the Val'kyr. Arthas didn't really care about those who he raised. So, their bodies just continue to rot until their bodies won't be able to hold their souls anymore. But while some of the second Generation of Forsaken may have started out with worse bodies, theirs’ as least will be preserved as they are right now. The Val'kyr have worked relentlessly on finding ways of slowing or at least stopping the decay of the first Generation down, so far without any luck. The Second Generation made up the bulk of the Forsaken, up until three years ago."

“What changed?”

“My vision happened. The one you saw while you were being raised.”

“The third Generation is the army, you mentioned?”

Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. “Your memories already coming back?”

“A few loose threads of information, nothing concrete.” The mage shrugged.

“But yes, the third Generation are those who were raised because I needed an army. They aren’t really that different from those of the second Generation, just that they are much more preserved and ‘healthy’- your brother is actually a third Generation Forsaken. No human would have looked like that decades after dying at sea.”

Jaina raised an eyebrow. “Did you just plunder graveyard after graveyard, to build up your army?”

“Not directly. Xiahan actually guided me to where I needed to go; without him I probably wouldn’t have found so many who could really make a difference.” At Jaina’s questioning look, Sylvanas smiled softly. “Most of those I raised were just simple soldiers, but there were also those who are called Heroes and Champions. You’ll meet some of them over the following days when we meet up with the fleet.”

"You have a fleet?" Somehow that fact seemed particularly strange to Jaina.

“Yes, the only way we can reach the lands where the Old Gods are, is by ship. Derek is going to be one of the Commanders of the Fleet as soon as we leave. His input has been invaluable, I think even if I hadn’t planned to use him as bait, that I would have raised him for exactly that position.”

Jaina smirked. “Nobody beats Kul Tiran sailors.”

"On that, we can agree. But back on topic. Your magic, as you already experienced earlier is most likely going to cause a few problems. Your emotions are going to be all over the place, the simplest things are going to set you off, and your magic is going to react, sometimes, in ways that you won't expect. When you feel overwhelmed, either come to me or leave the situation. The best thing you can do is either be alone, and calm down, or let your magic do what it wants where you can't harm anyone."

“Alright, anything else?”

“For now, no. You know the most important things, and if you have any questions don’t hesitate to come to me and ask.”

“Just one for now. Where are we?”

"We are in Windrunner Spire. Anything-" Whatever Sylvanas wanted to say next got interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Sylvanas looked at Jaina for permission, and the mage was suddenly struck by the realization that she didn't even know how she now looked. But, was that really that important? She had seen some of the Forsaken and Sylvanas had said that she was much more preserved, while the skin on her hands was even paler than before, with a slight blue tinge, everything else on her felt normal, she wasn’t missing anything as far as she was aware. The hair on her head still weighed her down, everything was covered by muscles and skin. She still had both of her eyes and nothing seemed to be in the wrong direction. So, she just nodded towards Sylvanas, and the elf didn’t waste a second to stride towards the door and open it.

She let someone else in, a tall elf, clad in heavy plate armor. He tilted his head slightly when he found her sitting on the bed.

“Jaina, this is Deathlord Zanris Duskweaver, leader of the Death Knights, and one of my personal Champions. I think that you should be able to recognize him.”

“Yes…” Jaina nodded and turned to look the man in the eyes, through his helmet at least. “You were the one that helped us break out Baine, and you were part of the forces that assaulted Azshara’s palace.”

The tall elf nodded and bowed before her once before he turned to Sylvanas.

“Alina and Voss are back. Everything went according to plan. Should I send him up?” Zanris said gruffly.

His voice was cold and revered with necromantic power. She hadn't heard him speak the last few times she had seen him. She didn't even know what he looked like under the helmet. Where others had taken theirs off, during the assault of Azshara's Palace, even other Death Knights, for short periods of time at least, he had always worn it.

Jaina recognized only the second name, the first person, this Alina was an unknown, it could have been anyone among the Forsaken, but the name Voss rang a bell. Lilian Voss, one of the more powerful members of the Forsaken. Little was known about the rogue, just that she liked to appear in places where the Alliance would have preferred her not to be.

“Do so, and wait for me downstairs, there are a few things we have to discuss.”

“Of course, my lady.”

He bowed again twice this time, once before Sylvanas, and once before Jaina. And then without another word he was gone again.

“Who was he talking about?” Jaina asked, as soon as the door had fallen shut behind the Death Knight.

Instead of answering Sylvanas instead commented on something else entirely. “I have to admit, despite some expected confusion and slight memory loss you are taking this awfully well…”

Jaina remained silent, she wasn’t even sure if Sylvanas had meant her comment as a compliment, but the Banshee wasn’t done speaking yet anyway, “But it seems as if this does run in the family.”

“What do you mean?” Jaina asked, feeling slightly irritated that Sylvanas had changed the subject.

"Well, why don't you see for yourself," Sylvanas drawled, her ears twitched for a brief moment, as a teasing smirk appeared on her face, the first one Jaina had seen since she had woken up.

The Banshee Queen turned away from her and opened the door again.

The man standing in the doorway smirked at her. “Hey little sister, looking good.”

Jaina gasped, “De-Derek?”

The blond man smiled at her, that same soft and yet confident smile he had always worn. The one she had not seen ever since he had left to fight in the Second War and had never returned home.

He looked good. Gone was the lost and near broken man that had been saved by Baine and a Champion of the Horde. Most of his clothes were new and clean. Except for his old admiral coat, it was the same one he had always worn, but it had been cleaned and freed from seaweed and other grime. He looked thrice more confident than when she had last seen him only a few hours before her… meeting with Sylvanas.

Jaina staggered to her feet, she registered only barely that Sylvanas had moved forward as if to prevent her from falling, but Jaina only had eyes for her older brother. She stumbled towards him and he caught her around the waist. The hug between them was filled with pure desperation. She had been so afraid to touch him these last few months, fearing that touching him and feeling his cold skin against hers and hearing the lack of a heartbeat would make it all true.

But his hug wasn't lacking warmth now, and her shoulders shook as she sobbed without tears. Shame coursed through her, she had been so blinded by her prejudices, prejudices that should not have even existed in the first place. Jaina's leg collapsed beneath her and the rest of her would have followed if it hadn't been for Derek's strong arms around her, he lowered them both to their knees and pulled her that much tighter against him. Burying her face in his neck she squeezed him tight and felt him do the same.

Neither of the siblings noticed the fact that Sylvanas had silently stepped past them to leave the room. The door softly falling shut behind the woman.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I don’t even know where I should start. It took me a little more than five months to finally update again. This chapter was just the worst!
> 
> So, before I get to that I should address the people who keep me motivated, those of you who favorite/follow the story, those of you who write comments, those of you who give me Kudos, every e-mail I get really helps me keep writing. So, thank you, thank you so, so much.
> 
> I also wanted to thank the Loyalist Discord community, and three very special people, who have helped me with this chapter: PD, Ouisch, and exhalence. Thank you so much, regardless of how small your help may seem, even just listening, helps writers like me.
> 
> I wrote the first version of this chapter in a little more than a month. But I didn’t like where it went, so I just threw the whole thing out. Then one morning a few days later I was struck by inspiration, and I reworked the whole Chapter from top to bottom, a completely new outline, and changed how things went completely. I honestly liked where it was going, but…
> 
> The more I tried to write this chapter the harder it became. I wrote another two very different versions based on the new draft. And I threw the first one out shortly before it was done, and the third attempt is just a collection of short parts, that I could have pieced together, but I lost the inspiration to do so.  
I turned my back onto writing for nearly two whole months after that.
> 
> And then a few weeks ago, I finally returned to this project. I never forgot about it, but I had no inspiration to write more than a handful of sentences.
> 
> I once again reworked the entire fourth Chapter, but I didn’t stop there, I reworked the first three chapters because I had come to the startling realization that I was unhappy with quite a few things that were in the first three Chapters, mostly because they felt rushed.
> 
> So, I rewrote all drafts for this entire story until I was happy with the result, then I started rereading the first three Chapters, and began writing. I changed some things, added some, threw some out. Like I said, the first three Chapters are still the same, plot-wise I haven’t changed much. And if you don’t really wanna reread them then you wouldn’t have to. But I would advise you to do so, I added some new information, particularly in the first and second Chapters, the third one barely changed.
> 
> The entire Chapter that I now released took me a little less than two months to write, I lost interest several times over the last few weeks, and I was ready to throw my Keyboard against the wall, because it seemed like I was hitting wall, after wall, after wall. But it is done now.
> 
> I’m exhausted, and I’m probably gonna update Chapter 4, in a few days again, after I got the energy to look over the errors and mistakes I made.
> 
> I honestly don’t know how soon I’ll get to updating again. Chapter 5 is already in the works, but I could come upon the same problems I had with 4, so the update could come within 2 weeks, or within 6 months. I hope that I have a much easier time writing the following chapters.
> 
> Just know that it was really hard to get this done. And I am so deeply sorry and almost ashamed that I let you waiting for so, so long.
> 
> So, maybe leave a constructive review down below. Leave a kudos or maybe bookmark the story, that would really make my day.
> 
> Thank you very much, this is ScouterFight and I’m out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Not much to say here:
> 
> **IMPORTANT:** For those who haven’t seen the note over the last chapter: I **rewrote** the **first three chapters **.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy reading Chapter 5.
> 
> By the way: All errors are my own this time, I’m too tired to send this to a Beta and then repost it later. I’m gonna just post it now, and worry about any errors tomorrow.

* * *

There were no sounds to be heard as the two undead siblings walking slowly down the stairs. Both Proudmoores were still processing the lengthy, and very much needed conversation the two had just shared.

Both of them had much to regret, Jaina had over twenty years of stored up emotions regarding her older brother. And Derek had practically just lied to her without pause, from the moment the two of them had met again.

They never had the chance to speak with each other after they had been reunited, so many things had happened in relatively quick succession afterwards, and if Jaina was being honest with herself then she could openly admit that a large part as to how it had come to this was because of her.

Jaina had honestly wanted to approach her older brother earlier, but she had been so unsure and her scarred history had caused her to turn away from her brother. And he on the other hand had been unable to approach her because he had felt guilty about lying to her, and also because he had been keeping so many secrets from her.

But now they finally had the chance to truly talk to each other, no more lies and secrets between them, and no more internalized distrust.

And by the Tides did it feel good, she wished that they could have done it sooner, but she was glad that they had finally had the chance to just talk.

The mage knew that she owed another person a similar conversation. She honestly couldn’t remember the last honest heart to heart she and Sylvanas had shared. Certainly not since Theramore, maybe even not since Sylvanas’s first death. And she definitely didn’t count their meeting at the beach.

After all, Sylvanas had attempted to say goodbye, it had been her last shot, to see her one last time before she walked into the unknown, and Jaina herself had been far too confrontational. The mage frowned as she thought about the fact that she very well could have dismissed Sylvanas entirely, that she could have missed seeing Sylvanas ever again.

Yes, she conceded, she may have still been alive, but would it truly have been worth it? Would her pride and her fears be worth the fact that the woman she had loved for so long, even with the countless up and down their relationship had experienced over the years, may have walked into hell without having the chance to see her one last time? Jaina remembered the countless letters she had received and knew that all of this may not have happened if she had just dismissed the later letters as she had done with the first ones.

And even during the meeting, so many things could have happened differently. She didn’t even want to think about the fact that it could have been Sylvanas who had been impaled on the poisoned Trident. The mage was unsure if the Val'kyr would have been alarmed quickly enough to save the Banshee Queen before her soul would have passed on. So many, many more things could have gone wrong, and then who knows what would become of the world.

Jaina walked slowly down the broken stairs of the ruined Spire, her brother right behind her. She kept her eyes firmly on her feet, for one so that she could avoid the various holes in the steps, and also because she didn’t want to be reminded of a time when this Spire had stood whole and proud. She carried so many regrets and painful memories of places she had once cherished; she didn’t want to add this one to the already far too long list.

But when the stairs finally ended, she had no choice but to look up again. Her new glowing eyes trailed sadly over the familiar room and walls.

The room that greeted the two siblings had once been something of a den, a family room. It had been a place filled with warmth, even after the decimation of most of the Windrunner family after the Second War, but now it was just a cold and empty place, nearly all the furniture had been destroyed, and one wall was gone entirely, no traces of it remained.

It was apparent that the Scourge had stormed through here, while the upper levels were mostly intact, partially because of the ancient wards, and partially because of the steepness of the stairs, the lower levels had been nearly completely ravaged, first by the undead, and later by the desperate that had remained.

Derek stepped up next to her and followed her gaze when he noticed a small smile creeping over her face. The large Windrunner family portrait had survived even after all this time. Even now she still could feel the powerful wards and enchantments centered around it, even standing several meters away.

Jaina still remembered the first time she had stood in this very room, a few months after she and Sylvanas had started their new relationship. The awe she had felt when she had seen the portrait and had felt its ancient protective enchantments had been so obvious that Sylvanas had noticed and promptly told her of its history.

Sylvanas had explained to her as they had sat on one of the many comfortable seating arrangements, that had been scattered around the room, with her strong arms draped around the young mage, that it was actually a series of portraits. And that every change in the family would be added onto it.

The series of portraits had started with a wedding portrait. Two blonde elves, arm in arm, both dressed elegantly, were smiling at each other. Sylvanas had told her that this was Talanas, her great-grandfather, the first Ranger-General with his wife, Alleane.

The next one started seamlessly right next to the first one, it added Talanas’ twin sons, at the time the portrait had been taken the boys had only been a little over a decade old. If the mage remembered correctly, they had been called Aeran and Drea’thul respectively, with Aeran becoming his father’s successor a few centuries after this portrait had been made.

The third part showed the family without Talanas or his wife, and instead displayed the next two generations of Windrunners that followed after the first Ranger-General. The twins, Aeran’s husband, and their three children. Two boys and a girl. All of them grinning at whoever had drawn the portrait at the time.

It displayed a happy family, one that had not been plagued by war and major conflicts of any kind. Aeran had been the Ranger-General with the least amount of conflicts popping up during his time of service. It had been a few peaceful centuries. Probably the most peaceful years in the northern parts of the Eastern Kingdoms since the Troll Wars.

Sylvanas had told her that the girl in that picture had been her mother, the next Ranger-General after her father had passed the title of to her. The last part showed an adult Lireesa Windrunner with her husband, her two siblings, her four children, and another young elf who Jaina had later learned was Zendarin, a cousin of the sisters who had at one point tried to kidnap Vereesa’s sons.

“Where is everyone?” Jaina asked softly, as she tore her eyes away from the large portrait. She suppressed a wince, the new rasp in her voice still unfamiliar, but she had gotten more used to it during her long and much-needed conversation with Derek.

He nodded towards the door. “Outside.”

As there was no sense in lingering in the destroyed building, both siblings didn’t pause long before they stepped through the destroyed hallway, and through the broken doorframe, the small square before the Spire was equally destroyed as the lower parts of the building. The stalls where once the family’s hawkstriders, horses, and dragonhawks had rested was completely gone, only broken wood and shattered stone remained.

The once beautiful paved ground beneath their feet was cracked and some parts were gone entirely, the once majestic fountain that had stood in the center of the small plaza before the Spire had been fully ripped out of the ground and was laying in pieces a few meters away from its original place.

Jaina looked around, there weren’t a lot of people, a handful of Sylvanas’s Dark Rangers were standing near the pathway leading towards Windrunner village, the elves were whispering with each other, apparently deep in a heated argument.

Sylvanas herself was standing a few meters away from them, the Warchief had both of her hands clasped behind her back and stood ramrod straight as she was talking softly, the hood of her cloak for once not covering her head.

The tall Death knight from earlier was standing at her elbow, his ears twitched briefly and his helmet covered head had snapped for nor more than a handful of seconds towards their direction before he just as quickly dismissed them again.

Jaina got a creeping feeling in her gut. For some reason, she felt as if the Champion didn’t particularly like her, but she had absolutely no idea why. She couldn’t remember ever meeting him before they had ‘rescued’ Baine, and since then she couldn't think of a reason for his apparent dislike towards her.

A small movement in front of the two elves drew Jaina's attention to the hooded Forsaken woman who was kneeling at the Queen’s armored feet.

Jaina watched the three for a while, as her brother leaned his back against the building they had just left. Sylvanas was speaking so softly that neither her voice nor her echo traveled the small distance between her and the siblings. Jaina wondered what she was saying, the entire scene looked very ceremonial.

Movement from the other side of the plaza drew Jaina’s attention away from Sylvanas and her two followers. One of the Rangers broke away from the whispering group, and apparently from the almost silent argument taking place, as one of the other hooded women angrily gestured after the shorter Ranger.

The woman walked with measured steps towards the two Proudmoores, Jaina noted that her steps were completely silent, even on the cracked stone path. She effortlessly maneuvered around the gaps in the ground, without even looking. Just before the elf reached Jaina, the mage felt her brother abandoning his position where he had up until now leaned against the walls of the Spire to step up next to her. The elf stopped before them and bowed once, a cheeky grin on her face.

“Lady Proudmoore, Lord Proudmoore it is an honor to finally meet you in person.”

Jaina nodded her head once. “I would say the same, going by the angry complaints and reports I had to read over the last several years. The exploits of the Dark Rangers are respected and hated in equal measure, but I can’t say that I know your name-”

“Anya Lightsprinter.” The small ranger grinned once more, and Jaina a strange feeling that the woman was as mischievous as she was skilled with that bow on her back.

She hadn’t exaggerated, she had already heard of this particular ranger, apparently one of Sylvanas’s most trusted companions, both in undeath and in life.

“Then it is an honor to meet you Anya Lightsprinter.”

“Lightsprinter, strange name for a _Dark_ Ranger…” Derek quipped up with a smirk as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

Jaina rolled her eyes before she shook her head and forcefully suppressed a pained groan. Apparently, this particular trait of her brother had survived his death, but Anya’s grin had only sharpened even further.

“Oh, I like you, Proudmoore.”

“Oh no, not another one,” someone groaned from behind Anya.

Another Dark Ranger had joined them. Where Anya was a little shorter than the two Kul Tirans, this one was significantly taller than Anya, and the two humans. The newcomer didn’t move to pull her hood down, as Anya had done when she had approached Jaina and Derek. Her red eyes glowed fiercely in the shade of her hood.

“Kalira Sparkseeker,” Kalira introduced herself with a fluid bow.

Jaina heard Derek huff and saw from the corner of her eye how he started to open his mouth again. "Spark-”

"Stop it, Derek," Jaina growled.

Her older brother just laughed not at all fazed.

"No, by all means, tell me what you wanted to say." Kalira grinned sharply at Derek who had taken a step back at the sight of sharp fangs catching the light of the setting sun. “I’m very interested to know.”

Derek laughed nervously and raised his hands in a placating manner as Anya and Kalira crowded him back towards the building. Both of them wore mischievous grins as they relentlessly necked her brother further and further.

Jaina shook her head as she walked away from them, for some reason she knew that no harm would befall her brother here, not from the Dark Rangers at least. And wasn’t that a funny thought? Just a few days ago she had been certain that she would never feel safe surrounded by Forsaken. Never mind the fact that she never would have been comfortable at the thought of her brother amongst any of Sylvanas’s followers.

Jaina closed the distance between herself and the trio in a few strides, but the mage stopped when Sylvanas glanced briefly in her direction and subtly shook her head. Tilting her head to the side Jaina watched silently as the Banshee Queen offered her right, unarmored, hand to the kneeling Forsaken.

The woman on the ground glanced up at her Queen, and Jaina quickly recognized this her, for a Forsaken at least, unusual icy blue eyes.

She racked her memories for anything that she had read about Lillian Voss, in the various reports the SI:7 had acquired over the years. If said reports were to believed then the woman had been brought up as a weapon for the Scarlet Crusade. And one thing that was consistent in the reports about this Forsaken was that she was as unpredictable as she was dangerous.

Another thing that had piqued her interest, when she had tried to find out everything, she could about Sylvanas’s strongest followers at the beginning of the Fourth War, was the fact that Voss’ loyalties could be extremely… fickle at best, and outright erratic at worst.

Jaina wondered if that was true here as well. Or if that has also been a part of Sylvanas’s plans to stop the Old Gods. So many things she didn’t know yet, so many unknowns and questions, it rankled the mage fiercely.

Voss meanwhile had climbed to her feet and had clasped the hand of her Queen firmly. With a nod from Sylvanas and another quick bow, the rogue was gone, blending into the shadows effortlessly. Deciding to throw caution into the wind Jaina once more approached Sylvanas, the Death knight had also stepped away with a quick bow, and a few murmured words in what Jaina assumed had to be Gutterspeak.

“What was that?” Jaina asked as she stepped beside Sylvanas. Her eyes trailed after the retreating form of the Champion before movement from Sylvanas drew her eyes back to the Queen.

The ranger’s ears twitched when a laugh from Derek and one of the rangers behind them reached the two. Jaina observed her as the Banshee Queen glanced back briefly. A smirk formed its way onto Sylvanas's face and Jaina was once more reminded of the woman Sylvanas had been before her death, a Ranger-General who had smirked and laughed at the attics of her rangers when they had been off duty.

Someone who had often joined in, when nothing pressing had weighed her down. Someone who had been able to relax once and a while. The Sylvanas that was standing beside her now, never let herself relax fully.

“How are you feeling?” Sylvanas asked, almost softly, instead of answering, and Jaina let her have this one, she didn’t think it had been very important.

That didn’t mean that there was much to report. “I’m fine-“

“Jaina.” Sylvanas tsked as if she was chiding her for trying to deceive her.

Jaina groaned, she suddenly felt annoyed for various reasons. “I told you I’m fine, yes, it is slightly strange. But-”

“What is strange? Remember I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what is bothering you.”

“It’s-,” Jaina sighed. “I don’t think that it is anything serious…" She sighed trying to find the right words was hard when she wasn't even sure how she was really feeling about all of this. While on one hand she had been willing, had even begged Sylvanas to kill and to raise her so that she could accompany her into the Shadowlands, but actually going through with it, and actually experiencing undeath, was still strange.

She sighed again, still unsure about what to actually say, but knowing that Sylvanas wouldn’t take much more of her silence. “It’s just… I have to remember to breathe, despite knowing that I don't need to anymore, my voice still sounds wrong, and everything is brighter and yet duller at the same time. The colors are all slightly off, and I feel as if my other senses are going haywire, from extremely sensitive to almost nothing at all.

Sylvanas frown remained, but it softened somewhat. “It takes a while to get used to the change, even if it as peaceful as yours was.”

“Peaceful?” Her death hadn’t been peaceful at all.

Sylvanas just shrugged. "Well, it certainly wasn't against your will."

“Oh…” Jaina mumbled. She considered that for a while, as they stood there, the voices of her brother and the other rangers just barely reaching them.

“Anything else on your mind, little mage?”

Had she still been alive she would have blushed at the old nickname Sylvanas had taken a liking to back when they had first gotten to know each other. Trying to direct Sylvanas away from her new… _condition_, she tried again. “You still haven’t answered what that was earlier.”

“Oh, that.” Sylvanas shook her head a wave of her hand dismissed the matter. “It’s nothing important really. I just… _promoted_ Lillian.”

Jaina resisted the urge to growl, she had a feeling that Sylvanas was just being particular obtuse on purpose now. “Promoted?” She asked flatly.

“I have several people that have been informed from near the beginning about this plan, all of them know what is really going on, and I always thought that the rogue is capable of much more than just sneaking around. I thought it was time to fully integrate her into my plans. And I needed one more Lieutenant for my plans to work anyway.”

“Lieutenants?” She questioned, in all the reports the Alliance had amassed about Sylvanas and the Forsaken’s power structure there had never been a sign of anything like this. The only real important thing they had been able to find was that her right hand was Nathanos, they hadn’t even known that she cultivated a closer relationship with any of the other Champions of the Horde.

Sylvanas waved her hand again as she turned her face around to face Jaina fully. "Certain handpicked individuals of the Forsaken that carry out my will, and command the rest of the Forsaken when I'm not present. You've already met, both of my Champions, Nathanos, and Zanris, then there are two Dark Rangers, and a couple of others."

“Will I meet the rest?”

“Certainly, and if all goes well that will be tonight. I've called for a meeting and sent out Lillian to gather the others. But for now, would you mind walking with me for a bit?” She asked even as she already turned to walk away, the Banshee didn’t give her any chance to decline, nor did she wait for her, but she slowed her steps considerably for Jaina to catch up. “There are still some things you have to know before we meet with them.” She continued.

“Like what?” Jaina asked as she fell into step with the older woman.

Sylvanas waved her hand again, dismissingly, even though the topic of her next words certainly wasn’t unimportant. “Like how we are going to enter the Shadowlands.”

“You’ve said by ship,” Jaina answered slowly, unsure if her death had caused her to forget something about that as well.

“Partially,” Sylvanas nodded. “The full story is that we are using an ancient artifact, one almost as old as Azeroth itself, maybe even older. It is like a key. And like all key, this one opens something.”

“I know what a key is, Sylvanas.” Jaina scoffed annoyed with Sylvanas’s act.

“Yes, I know but this particular key that has the power to open the barriers between worlds. It can be used everywhere to go anywhere. There are supposed to be no limits to its reach.”

Her eyes widened, that was a powerful tool. She wondered who would have created something like this. She imagined the Legion with such a weapon and shuddered slightly. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Sylvanas watch her. “Is it a titanic artifact?”

“I guess so, but I also have the feeling that it is far older than even them. Anyway, what is even more important than the fact that it could open a portal between different worlds, is that it can also open the barrier between our reality and the lands of the dead.”

“So, this Key will open a gate for us to enter the Shadowlands?”

Sylvanas hummed softly in agreement. “At least to the part of the Shadowlands that the Old Gods have taken over. But there is a… catch.”

Jaina scoffed again, she had seen this one coming. “Of course, there is. It can never be easy.”

They stopped walking, the voices of Derek and the Rangers had long since faded away. And even Sylvanas ears had stopped twitching occasionally.

“Let me guess, I’m not going to like this?” She asked just as Sylvanas ears flickered once before settling again.

“No, I don’t think that you will.” Another voice interjected itself into the conversation. And Jaina watched from the corner of her eye, as one of the Sylvanas’s Champions stepped up to them.

It was the Death knight again. Now that she had partially recovered from discovering that she had died, and he was fully facing her, the mage got a closer look at him. If he was one thing then he was tall, he was even taller than Sylvanas, who was already quite towering for her people.

And even more immense looking, with his bulky armor and broad shoulders, he nearly dwarfed Jaina, who was definitely not short, especially for a human woman.

He removed his helmet and quickly fastened it on his belt while he closed the remaining distance between them. He bowed low in front of Sylvanas and then straightened up again.

He turned to Sylvanas and began to murmur with a low voice.

"I've spoken with Alina and looed at the crypt myself. None of the others have been here since we…” He glanced at Jaina, obviously unsure about what he was allowed to say in front of her.

But Sylvanas just hummed. “It’s alright, Champion. She is going to be involved in everything from now on.”

“Everything?”

"Yes," Sylvanas said simply.

Jaina tried not to think about what everything could actually mean. She had the horrible feeling that if she were still alive that she would already feel the beginnings of a horrible headache creep up on her.

The Death knight just nodded. “Very well, as I was saying none of my siblings have disturbed the crypt since we placed the artifact there for safekeeping. I don't think any of them visited it since shortly before the Third War."

Jaina had taken the opportunity, while he was conversing with Sylvanas, to observe his features closely. The horrible burn scar on his cheek and his gauntness, like almost all of Sylvanas and her undead elven followers, shared between them, drew her attention right away. The mark on his check was an ugly thing, it was imprinted on his skin almost as if the one who had done it had been neither careful about it nor considerate of his health and the state of the brand mark.

She didn’t recognize the origin of the sign, both because she wasn’t very knowledgeable in these aspects, and because of its bad state, but if she had to guess she would say that it was trollish in origin. So, a slave brand was the most likely explanation as it not just explained why he had it but it also explained the horrible condition of the brand.

But neither the scar nor the gauntness of his checks nowhere near managed to distract her from the unnatural beauty he still possessed despite his undeath. The rest of his features were still sharp and elegant, despite his gauntness, had he been human Jaina would have almost depicted his face as aristocratic.

Sylvanas hummed softly. “That is a good thing. Let’s hope that they won’t change their habits, for just a little while longer.”

"I doubt that they are going to visit. The only one who would really have any reason to come would be Alina, and she is already involved anyway, the rest of our siblings have… other things on their mind."

“Yes, the living have a way with forsaken those who are gone, especially when it comes to family,” Sylvanas noted sourly.

The Champion had finally noticed her gaze, and she looked away pointedly now that she could see his face, she was almost sure that he disliked her.

His helmet may have been able to hide it, were it not been for the sharpness of her magical senses, but his bare face couldn’t disguise his displeasure at her mere presence. The way his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowed, how the icy fire burned just a bit brighter, the almost snarl on his lips, all these things pointed towards the fact that the Deathlord disliked her immensely. But Jaina still couldn’t understand why he hated her.

His ears though, gave him away the most of all, the way they were pushed back, she was no expert on reading elven ears, but she had spent enough time among them to recognize the signs at least. Jaina almost wondered if he would have tried to attack her, had it not been for Sylvanas’s presence.

Sylvanas who was either unaware, though Jaina seriously doubted it, about the fact that one of her Champions openly despised her, or just didn’t care crossed her arms over her chest and turned to her to finally get back on track.

“Anyway, my Champion and I don’t seem to be able to reach an agreement on this certain topic, and I had hoped that your input would help us in reaching one.”

Jaina’s brows furrowed, and she pushed her previous thoughts to the back of her head, she had a feeling that there were more important things to discuss than the Champions apparent hatred for her. “You still haven’t told me what you are talking about.”

“Ah, yes,” Sylvanas drawled as she began to pace. “You see the power of the key is incredibly destructive, if you aren’t strong enough to wield it then the Key will consume you, and kill you. So, to use this artifact and to open a gate, we would need someone immensely powerful.”

“I guess you aren’t strong enough to use it?”

“No.” Sylvanas stopped pacing and briefly looked away as if she was embarrassed by the fact that she couldn't do it. 

“Despite my recent…” she paused briefly as if she was searching for the right word. “_upgrades_ that my…” another short break before Sylvanas found the right word. “_benefactor_ has granted me I won't be able to use it. I touched it once when we retrieved it and felt that the Key would destroy me should I ever try to use it.”

The other elf shook his head, “And with that none of the Forsaken will be able to use the artifact, Sylvanas is by far the strongest out of all of us.”

Jaina looked between the two elves, they were tense, to say the least. “Have you found anyone else?”

“There is one last detail we haven’t told you about yet. It has to do with how it is activated.”

She raised an eyebrow at the older woman, while the Death knight shifted slightly, the rattle of his armor penetrated the silence and Jaina got a bad feeling about what they were going to reveal next. She had the strange feeling in her gut that this entire conversation would be much harder to bear than she had previously thought.

They were both silent for a while. And the pit in Jaina’s stomach grew exponentially. Both undead elves were behaving unusually skittish, and this certainly didn’t bode well.

“The Key needs to be activated by someone who is in some way connected to the world we want to open the gate to,” Sylvanas finally forced out, after one more shared look between the two elves.

“And?” Jaina understood what Sylvanas meant, but what she didn’t get was why the Banshee Queen was so upset about it. There were enough people who used the magic that was tied to the Powers of Death. Thirty years ago, that might have been different but these days, a lot more people used Necromancy and other branches of Death magic.

The Deathlord took over. “That means that only a being that has access to the Powers of Death can access the Key, if that weren’t the case, we would simply kidnap someone very powerful and force them to use it, any of the former Aspects, even Khadgar or you would have been possible candidates.”

Sylvanas growled lowly when the Champion mentioned that she could have been a possible candidate. And Jaina could almost imagine it, her being lured to a meeting, very much like it had happened in reality, and then they kidnapped her only to force her to use the Key, most likely burning herself out and killing herself in the process, all in all, it wasn't a pleasant thought.

She shook her head to get rid of those thoughts, Sylvanas hadn’t done it anyway, there was no need to dwell on it any further.

A small voice in the back of her mind whispered to her that they had really considered it.

_What if they only hadn’t done it because it wouldn’t have worked anyway? No! Now was no time to think like this, they had a common enemy they had to focus on, she could work on her trust issues later._

"Yes, that part I understand, but what is about that is supposed to upset me so? Aren't there enough people out there these days that can use this particular brand of magic?”

Zanris shook his head. “Normally yes, but we don’t just have to find someone who is connected directly to the powers of death but also someone who is powerful enough to actually use them in the capacity we need. And there aren’t really many left who are both powerful and knowledgeable.”

“That may sound weird coming from me, but couldn’t you just have raised someone of these powerful individuals and let them open the gate?”

The Deathlord raised an eyebrow at the question showing visible shock for a few seconds before he quickly wiped the emotions of his face, but Sylvanas shook her head and answered in a clipped tone of voice.

“It doesn’t work like that, just because you are dead does not mean that you are proficient in using death magic. You are still very much an arcane mage, with an affinity for frost magic, and not a necromancer. For example, you can't actually use the powers Zanris or I use. We both use different styles of death magic, but we aren’t powerful enough to use the artifact. The only way you could use Death magic without any training, simply through being raised if the Val’kyr had raised you as something different than you are. A Lich for example. But I doubt that you would have wanted that.”

Jaina just hastily shook her head in response. It wasn’t a very nice thought, she was glad that Sylvanas hadn’t ordered her Val’kyr to do so, even if it would have probably made some things much simpler…

“And if Sylvanas can’t do it then there is only one other undead being who can…” The Champion trailed off, and for the first time since the Jaina had looked away from his face did their eyes meet again. She saw the weight in them and suddenly she knew who he was talking about. There was only one being who came into consideration. There was only one “person” that would cause Sylvanas to behave so strangely.

“The Lich King.”

Those three words were enough, there was no more real need for an explanation as to why they both had been beating around the bush. And certainly, why they hadn’t found a solution yet, if the only possible candidate that fit the criteria was the Lich King then she understood their hesitation.

He nodded, and despite themselves, both elves had stiffened, the old anger, and pain flashed to the surface for a brief moment.

“And I guess Bolvar won’t help us?”

Zanris shook his head and crossed his arms behind his beck. He was still stiff, even just the mere mention caused the man to turn rigid with tension. “I don’t think that there is much left of the Paladin he had once been.”

“No, I guess you are right…” Jaina acknowledged his statement, as her thoughts flashed back to a man, a former Hero of the Alliance, sitting frozen atop the Citadel.

Suddenly Zanris’s eyes widened. “The magical signature we could never track. I should have known that it was familiar. It was yours wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jaina said softly. “I’ve been keeping an eye on him ever since we left him sitting on that tides damned throne, and I know that he has changed, the few times we…” she hesitated for a moment, “well talked is not the right word for it, but the few times he was awake he had changed drastically from the man he had once been.”

“Yes, we’ve been discussing who should wear the helmet, but we have yet failed to find a suitable candidate. There are many things to consider and so far, well...” He trailed off.

“You haven’t found anyone?”

“No, while we both would be able to bear the weight of it, the repercussions would be too dire.”

“What do you- oh” She looked away as she realized what he meant. She cleared her throat even though there was no need for it. “Yes, I can see what you mean.”

The Forsaken would never follow someone who was wearing the helmet, and she guessed that the Death Knights of the Ebon Blade wouldn’t either.

“Quite,” Sylvanas said and drew the attention of the two others back to her “and we are definitely running out of time.”

The Death knight turned back to Sylvanas. "I told you, my lady if it comes to it then I will wear it. The support of my knights won't matter if we find no one to wear the damned thing before it is too late.”

“And I told you _Champion_, that I won’t allow it,” Sylvanas growled.

Jaina stayed silent as they fell back into an argument that didn’t seem to be new, they both had obviously spent a lot of time fighting about this.

She stepped away from the by now snarling undead elves, and for a few moments considered the options in silence.

And if she was honest there weren’t really a lot.

If what the two had told her was true then there weren’t a lot of people who would be both strong enough to wear the Helm of Damnation, and even less who would be proficient enough in using the newly gained powers the Helmet would grant the wearer.

“That is not an excuse and you know it. There has to be another way!”

Sylvanas’ and Zanris’ voices faded into the background as Jaina’s brows furrowed.

_“And if there isn’t? What then?”_

_“I’ll find something.” _

She was suddenly reminded of something her late master Antonidas had always told her when she had struggled with mastering something.

_“Using any kind of power, be it of the Arcane, of the Light, or anything else, requires above all **focus**. Don’t think about doubts or that you already failed this before. Don’t think about failure or success at all. Just think about doing it. And then do it.”_

Using magic, tapping into the Cosmic Powers, always lead back to the same base principle, **focus**.

The six Cosmologic powers, Order and Disorder, Light and Shadow, and Life and Death require above all, above power, and above strength just the focus to control them.

Even those with nearly to no magical talent could one day master each of the six Cosmologic Powers with just enough drive and focus.

Actively and correctly focusing on the task at hand was the first thing young apprentices learn before they do anything related to magic. Focus through meditation, focus through breathing exercises, focus through repeating the laws and rules of magic, and some other ways. Those were the first thing young mages learn when they start to study. Because they were not just life-saving for the user themselves but for everyone around them.

Focusing correctly on the task at hand was essential.

Each of the six Cosmic Forces had their own respective place in the Universe, and with that, each of them carried a different risk while accessing them.

The forces of Order and Disorder govern the whole of the physical plane of existence. They control reality, Order, and Disorder shape existence the way it is seen by mortals.

Order manifests itself on the physical plane as the Arcane. And Disorder manifests itself in the form of the Fel. Both of them could be used by mortals but without enough concentration, will, precision, determination and most of all focus, there is a high chance that these Cosmic energies could turn against those who try to wield them.

The forces of Light and Shadow are a bit trickier. Technically they both are the most fundamental forces in all of existence even though they are not the first ones. Although contradicting and locked in an eternal struggle since their creation these two Powers are bound together at their very core, one cannot exist without the other.

Both the Light and the Shadow exist in a realm outside of reality, and only a few mortals have the perception to feel pieces their pure forms on the physical plane. Most mortals only witness flimsy shades of their presence, as just bare fragments of their powers can penetrate the barrier that separates reality from the other side.

Light manifests itself in reality as holy magic and can be wielded by Paladins, Priests, and other worshipers of the Light. While Shadow manifests itself as void magic, falsely known as shadow magic, on the physical plane.

The forces of Life and Death are the two forces that push the Universe forward. Life and Death can be found everywhere as the two forces are intertwined even deeper than Shadow and Light. Where there is Life there is Death, and where Death can be found there is almost always Life to be found. These two are the most common of the Powers, as they can be found in every living thing in the physical plane.

Life oftentimes shows itself as nature magic, it promotes growth and renewal in all things, even in Order and Disorder, and in Light and Shadow. Nothing can exist without Life and Death, not even the other four forces of the Cosmology.

Death often shows itself in the basest forms of the Necromantic magic, it is the counterbalance to Life. Without it, there would be new beginnings, as contradicting as it may sound, but there can’t be new things without the old one’s perishing. The death of old things is essential for new things to arise. 

To come back onto the topic of Focus, each of the six Cosmic Powers carries a different risk with them when one tries to use them without being prepared to what it actually means to try to use a power that could potentially have the strength to destroy the Universe or even create a new one.

There was a reason as to why the Arcane and the Fel are the physical manifestations of Order and Disorder respectively. The Arcane follows a strict sense of rules, it is easy to explain the how's and the why's, the Arcane follows guidelines and logic can be easily found within it. The Fel, on the other hand, is the complete opposite, there is no rhyme or reason when it comes to that aspect, there are no guidelines, no written rules, the only two rules the Fel follows is that it is highly addictive and absolutely self-consuming

Fel was not something that mortals could understand or explain. Most mortals could tap into its essence and use it but they always risk being corrupted and destroyed by the Fel’s addictive pull.

The Arcane was simple, it just was. It was a form of energy that could be used to do many fantastic things. But the Arcane wasn’t without its hidden danger either.

Using the Arcane with not enough focus, and with that not enough control would lead to losing control over it.

And this in turn would turn the user into something of a bomb. Too much usage of the Arcane would effectively overwhelm the user. And if they didn’t stop the flow of magic, then the power would build up, and build up until the mage lost control entirely and the buildup magic would then escape in the form of a massive explosion.

A mana bomb was really nothing more than a lot of stored up arcane energy. Concentrated and forced inside a very small container. The mana bomb that had been used to destroy Theramore had been strengthened by the Focusing Iris but the concept had still been the same.

Fel on the other hand could drive an inexperienced or unfocused practitioner towards total self-destruction.

Because of the Fel's addictive tendencies, an unpracticed Fel Mage would try to use more and more of the Fel's power until the magic that they had been trying to control would then consume them. As soon as the user loses control over it, it is going to turn against them. Afterwards, the Fel would consume itself leaving nothing but ever-burning ashes behind.

Neither of those two powers requires a lot of base strength to wield. The Arcane and the Fel are probably the easiest to control without any special affinity to any of the Cosmic Powers.

The danger with them lied in using too much of either too fast or without the focus to control them. All this is just made worse by the fact that both Fel and Arcane are practically self-sustainable for longer periods, meaning even without being actively used by anyone they can still cause damage and they always leave traces of their power behind.

Jaina winced and her fingers came into contact with her braided hair, she had experienced those effects firsthand.

The Cosmic Powers of Light and Shadow both hide entirely different dangers. Both of them carry the power to drive their practitioners down a path of madness. Both of them are definitely the hardest to control for several reasons, by experienced and inexperienced users alike.

A partial reason for that is, because those two sides of the Cosmos are extremely volatile, and another is because both the Light and the Shadow are at least to some degree sapient.

Nearly everyone who at least once came into contact with any kind of Shadow magic knows that the Whispers of the Void are dangerous and very present, they aren’t just a myth made up to scare anyone away from using the powers that stemmed from the Shadow aspect of the Universe. Even just the smallest hint of active usage of void magic is enough to call forth these horrific whispers.

The other side, the “whispers” that came from the Light, are not as widely known, and definitely not as talked about. But they are there, even if they presented themselves more in feelings than in actual voices.

Jaina had only learned about this fact later in life, but most organizations that are devoted to the Light actively try to hide the fact that the Light could drive one just as mad, and into a similar monstrous form as the Shadow can.

Void and Holy magics both have their own agenda, and they can only be used if the Shadow Lords, falsely known as Void Lords, or the Light Lords "agree". The first time Jaina had witnessed something like this had been back during the early days of the Third War when Arthas's hammer had stopped glowing every so often. A sign that the Light Lords hadn’t agreed with the way Arthas had been handling things.

Looking back on it, that had been one of the first signs of his path to damnation.

Jaina hadn't mentioned it then, but she had researched it later and had learned that when the Light Lords and subsequently the Shadow Lords agree with their practitioners' actions and usage of their powers that they then could access these powers freely, and that the potential they unlocked with that permission could be practically limitless.

But this right had to be earned, taking it by force was dangerous. Jaina had learned about those dangers when she had read about how the Sin’dorei had enslaved a Naaru. It had made the Paladins of the Blood Knights strong, far stronger than most users of holy magic, but these powers hadn’t been as stable or as controlled as they could be when a Priest or a Paladin had called onto the Light to aid them.

Alleria was similar, she controlled the void powers within her, without the direct influence of the Shadow Lords, even though the whispers were still very present, and her powers could easily overwhelm her at any given time, most other Ren’dorei were either much more careful with their usage of the Void, meaning they just used it sparingly, or they were devoted to the Shadow Lords.

Regardless if one took the powers without asking the Lords for aid, or if they worked with the approval, the whispers, the guiding emotions of the Shadow and the Light always followed their respective magic.

Jaina had been wary of both the Light and the Shadow sides of the Cosmic Powers, ever since she had learned that they were to some degree sapient. Because that meant that these parts of the Cosmos had an agenda, and as long as nobody knew what kind of agenda that was, they also had no clue if they weren’t playing right into some malicious entity’s hands.

But despite being somewhat sapient, focus was still important to actively use those powers.

They didn’t just come to you from out of nowhere, those who worshiped the Light and the Shadow, knew that their faith required years of studies, training and most of all focus. The mental strength was much more important than any affinity for magic when it came to both the Light and the Shadow.

On the other hand, some followed no Lord. The Sin'dorei were one such example when it came to the Light, and Alleria was the prime example when it comes to the Shadow. Those who took to the holy-magic and those who took to the void-magic know that if they ever lose focus, even if just for one moment, that the consequences would be dire, not just for themselves but for everybody around them.

There wasn't really known a lot about in which order the Cosmic Powers had formed into existence but from what Jaina had learned, in her decades of studying all kinds of magic, apparently, Death and Life had been created with the creation of the Universe itself. Meaning that they were definitely the oldest, and most likely also the ones that were the most natural. Even though both Life and Death had looked very different in those early days of the Universe when compared to how things looked now.

While neither of these ancient Forces was sapient like the Light and the Shadow were, or as destructive if channeled wrong like powers of Order and Disorder, they were certainly the most powerful.

Everything in the cosmos is based around the Forces of Life and Death. Nothing could exist without Life, no Order, no Disorder, no Light, and no Shadow. But without Death, Life wasn't just possible. An eternal circle with infinite beginnings and infinite endings happening all the time, constantly shifting and changing, never-ending but with no true discernible beginning either.

There was a certain balance that had to be maintained for the Universe to function. If there was no Death then there could be no Life and with no Life, there could be no Death. These two Cosmic Powers were so intertwined with each other that any kind of existence without either of them was just not possible.

The Cosmic Powers were always displayed as opposed to each other. Order against Disorder, Light against Shadow, but Death was not the enemy of Life, and Life was not the enemy of Death. These two went hand in hand. One couldn’t exist without the other, a certain Balance was necessary for the existence of everything.

Death and Life magic were driven by many things, emotions, desires, balance, and who knows what else. These forces were not sapient but they were in a sense alive. They knew what was happening when they were called forth, and reacted accordingly.

Druids are the most known practitioners of nature magic; they are the protectors of nature and with that life itself. One of the greatest dangers when using nature magic is to lose yourself to the wild or the Emerald dream.

Some druids fall asleep and never reemerge from the Emerald Dream and others transform into a beast form and lose their “humanity”, they become one with the beast hidden in them.

That is the danger, or at least one of the dangers, that nature magic carries with it. Those who practice it without enough focus could lose themselves to the wild energies of Life. They run the risk of losing their identities and merging with the Emerald Dream or with the wilderness they were trying to protect. When they lose themselves to the animal within them, they become mindless beasts, an effect that is only in rare cases reversible.

Life magic is driven by the need to protect, the need to protect, and to see life prosper. It could be dark and even used with deadly intent, but those who practice any kind of Life magic should always be driven by the desire to protect life and not by the desire to destroy it. If they lose sight of that the danger of nature turning against them, by trapping them in the Emerald Dream or their beast form amplifies. 

Using nature magic and with that, the Forces of Life was a double-edged sword. You have to remain focused enough to actively control the powers that you are wielding without them turning against you, and you have to remain true to these powers' purpose or you run into the same risk. But on the other hand, Life magic was certainly potent and vastly powerful.

Death magic or necromancy was dangerous. It was addictive, the power, the feeling of ruling over life and death, deciding who "lives" on, it ate away at the soul. It corrupted not just mind and body as the Fel did. Some went as far as to say that it could even affect the necromancer's afterlife. And Jaina didn't doubt that she had seen the effect death magic had on so many people.

It was addictive, highly so.

It was different than the addictiveness of the Fel. Fel was spontaneous addictive it was not a slow process it happens quickly and rapidly given the user practically no time to react.

But Death magic worked slower, it corrupted over time, it drags the user deeper and deeper into depravity. It invites you to do more and more, raise more people, make stronger and more barbaric monstrosities. And If you do not have the focus to realize the subtle manipulation it is just a matter of time, until nothing of the former person remains. The arrogance that came with deciding over life and death, could quickly lead to overconfidence. And this is often followed by the fall.

Six Cosmic Powers, with six manifestations, in reality, carried six different risks if the user wasn't on top of their game while using them.

The Arcane carried the danger of turning yourself into a bomb, the Fel could consume you to fuel itself, the Holy magic, and the Void magic could drive you mad and turn you into an abomination, the Nature magic could cause you to lose yourself to the Emerald Dream or to lose your "humanity" and become a beast. And lastly, Necromancy and other aspects of Death magic could corrupt you from the inside out.

_“I’m tired of this back and forth, we have no one who can do this! It has to be one of us, and I won’t allow you to take this burden on your shoulders, not after everything.”_

_“I told you-“_

_“I don’t care, and besides if it is me, I can at least trust that you will put me down when I lose myself to the Helmet.”_

_“That is not what this is about!”_

And while Jaina had never personally used any kind of Death Magic, she had a feel for it. Just as she had gotten a feel for the Light, the Fel, and even the Void. For someone of her strength and affinity to magic in general, it came almost naturally. She had spent enough time around users of the various Cosmic Powers for her to get a fundamental understanding of nearly all of them.

The only thing that she hadn’t done yet, was actually harnessing these powers herself. She had always trusted in her knowledge and usage of her current spell set. And yet, wasn’t there a possibility for her to use the dark powers of Death?

The Deathlord himself had admitted that she had been one of the possible candidates that they had considered. And now that she was dead, enhanced by the powers of one of the last Val’kyr that had once been infused with Death Magic, the pieces almost fit together too easily.

But was she ready for this, could she actually do it?

It was one thing to harness the powers of Death, particularly those of the Lich King, or Queen it would then be, but to actually resist its call, its dark corrupting effect she had witnessed on Bolvar over the last couple of years. Would she be able to resist long enough for them to find a way to destroy the Lich King and the Helmet of Domination once and for all? Never mind the fact that she had no idea if she would be able to resist long enough to defeat the Old Gods first.

She didn’t have any of these answers. But what she knew is that they were wasting time, from what Jaina had gathered they had been fighting about this for quite a while now, and from the looks of the current senseless back and forth she knew that they wouldn’t find a solution any time soon. But with no one to wear the Helmet, there also wouldn't be anyone who could use the Key, and without the Key, the Old Gods would win, sooner rather than later, they would attack in full force, and then nothing would be able to stop them.

Jaina had felt the power of N’Zoth in Azshara’s palace, now that she knew that it was just a fraction of its strength, she knew that they couldn’t allow these monsters to return in full force.

She had been so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed the approaching presence behind her. She turned around when she finally did and came nearly face to face with Sylvanas’ other Champion. She smirked internally when she noticed that she was slightly taller than the Ranger-Lord.

Nathanos was glaring darkly past her at the two arguing elves, who were now rapidly switching between Thalassian and Gutterspeak. Her Thalassian was rusty, and she barely knew any Gutterspeak, yet.

Sylvanas had told her that it would come with time, but for now the dark grumbles and scratching sound were as strange to her as Shath'Yar, even though the tongue of the Old Gods alone sounded corrupting already. Gutterspeak was just dark and rough.

Nathanos stepped up next to her and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“This has been going on for weeks now. If they continue like this, they are going to give me a headache. And I thought that I would never experience one again," he grumbled darkly.

“Aren’t there any… alternatives beside them?” She asked uncertainly, careful to keep her voice below a whisper.

He made a face, he looked almost embarrassed as if he hadn't noticed that she had obviously been able to hear him.

And then he suddenly glanced knowingly at her as if he knew what she had been thinking about just before he had arrived. “While they aren’t exactly ideal candidates, they were the best we had, until now at least.”

And wasn’t that just ominous? Jaina thought as she fought to keep the grimace of off her face.

She understood what he meant, after all, she wasn't stupid.

But she wasn’t really in the mood to open this particular can of worms. Jaina wasn’t ready yet, to admit her own previous speculations to him of all people. She feared that as soon as she spoke her thoughts out loud that it would make them real, and even worse that it would make it actually possible.

“I-“

The Ranger Lord grunted. “Please, Proudmoore don’t play coy.”

He titled his head to look at her. “We both know that you could do this. You are magically gifted, you know magic like no other truly does these days, and most importantly of all, you are horrible stubborn. I think even the essence of the Lich King would bite its metaphorical teeth out on you.”

Jaina grimaced at that mental image. She took a deep breath, even though she didn’t need to, and by the tides was she still getting used to that.

“This is not just about power,” she argued weakly.

“No, it isn’t. But there are very few people who are as personally invested as you are in all of this. For you this is not just about duty, this is something personal and that would give you all the strength to resist its corruptive pull.”

She frowned. “You sound awfully sure about this.”

“Believe me I would rather see your head roll at the end of all this than the Dark Lady’s if we don’t find a way to finally end the Lich King without killing its host.”

Jaina rolled her eyes.

He grunted and then continued. “But I’m also aware of the fact that if anyone could actually control this… monster, so that we can use its power against the Old Gods, and maybe, just maybe even finally find a way destroy it, once all of this is over, that it would be you.”

She was quiet, she didn’t really know what to respond. And she was also deeply thinking. She had a feeling that she had already made up her mind about this, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it.

He once more rolled his eyes at the back and forth that was going on in front of them, and then turned so that he was facing her fully. He took one long look at her and then he sighed. “Listen Proudmoore. I may not be a mage, or in any way magically gifted, but I know from experience that there is more to all of this. I have seen you fight. I have seen you survive one horror after the other with your sanity intact, and I have seen you conquer things that would have crusher others. I may not like you, but I can respect your own unique strength.”

"With the way these two are going at this we are never going to find a solution. I have seen them argue themselves blue back when we were still alive. And their deaths have only made them both even more stubborn. He won't let her do this, and she will order him not to do it, and he will follow that order."

Another sigh, he sounded so tired. Jaina wondered if she sounded the same when she was talking about all of this.

"In the end, it is your decision. I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy…" He trailed off when she raised an eyebrow at that, he grinned darkly and chuckled. "Very well, maybe there are some I would wish it on, but I understand your hesitation. Either way, make up your mind quickly because I have tried to make them stop this senseless back and forth and I haven't succeeded, so now it's on you to break them up."

She glanced back over to said pair.

“If I’ll do this, and that is a large if…” she paused for a moment, she was actually about to do this, she must be mad. She looked the man in the eyes and took a deep breath, “then you and the Deathlord have to promise to stop me, should I ever lose myself to the Helmet. Because I don't know if Sylvanas will be able to let that arrow fly should it come to it."

He grunted. “With pleasure,” he vowed with a dark grin.

She was sure that he was honest, this may be the only thing he had been honest about that entire conversation, but she didn’t care. Jaina was sure that he would do it, or that he would at least try to stop her. It was good to know that, it caused the doubt in her to shrink just the tiniest bit.

“Anyway, if these two ever stop, tell them that I’m taking the other Rangers and your brother back to the rest of our forces.”

Jaina nodded and then she watched him walk away for a moment until his form disappeared between the trees. And then she turned back to Sylvanas and the Champion, she overserved them for a few more moments, the sun had by now fully set and their surroundings were bathed in darkness, as the moon hadn’t fully risen yet. But she still could see the other two clearly.

She sighed once, for once in her life she wished that she could go and walk the easy road, but it seems that it wasn’t meant to be.

The words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“I’ll do it.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Huh it is done, thanks for reading.
> 
> I once again need to address the people who keep me motivated, those of you who favorite/follow the story, those of you who write comments, every e-mail I get really helps me keep writing. So, thank you, thank you so, so much.
> 
> This one wasn’t actually that hard and could have been out a month ago, but I haven’t been able to write more than a few sentences over the last month, and then four days ago, I sat down and just wrote this behemoth of a chapter…
> 
> I once again don’t know when I’m gonna update again. Honestly, half of what was going to be in chapter 6 was supposed to be in this one, but I dug myself into a hole of Cosmology Theory of the Warcraft universe and trying to make Jaina just a bit more like a “scholarly” that I lost myself there for a bit. 
> 
> A little hint for the time in between updates.
> 
> Next chapter: Jaina is going to see the Forsaken War Camp, meet the other Lieutenants, reunite with a few old friends, learns a bit more about the OC family I have created (the Duskweavers) and maybe even finally the Mak’gora. 
> 
> Because that is something that is going to be one of the canon things, that happened after the stuff of Rise of Azshara that are going to be turning up in this story! So, stay tuned for more!
> 
> Hopefully, I won’t run in circles around a certain topic and only get half of this into the next chapter.
> 
> And hopefully, I’m gonna update earlier than three to six months xD
> 
> So, maybe leave a constructive review down below. Leave a kudos or maybe bookmark the story, that would really make my day.
> 
> Thank you very much, this is ScouterFight and I’m out.


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